


In The Pines...

by ThisWasInevitable



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Historical, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Begging, Brief Mentions of Blood, Brief mentions of injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Hand Jobs, Huddling For Warmth, Human/Monster Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Indrid Cold making poor life choices, Kissing, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Praise Kink, Riding Crops, Rough Sex, Set in the late 1800s, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Spanking, TAZ-Amnesty, Teratophilia, background danbrey, background sternclay, brief mentions of surgery, indruck, like very brief on all counts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-06-03 15:56:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 46,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19467256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisWasInevitable/pseuds/ThisWasInevitable
Summary: Saw someone saying they had fics they wanted to see, including some Indruck ones. Based on their requests, I came up with this AU.Duck Newton is an arborist in the small town of Kepler. He isn't inclined to believe the weird things people claim happen in the woods around town.Then he finds an injured man in the woods by his house. When he takes him home to tend to him, he sets in motion a chain of events that will change the course of his life, and the fate of his town.





	1. Where the Sun Don't Ever Shine

The year is 1880. 

The town of Kepler, West Virginia is not known for much. A stopover for travelers, a small, homey town for those who live there. The Greenbriar Mountains surrounding the town and the woods that border it on three sides make it scenic, in the summers it’s even a place where a wealthy few or those looking for beauty in nature may wile away their days

The winter is a very different story.

You see, the mountains leave the town cut off from the world when the snow falls heavy. The citizens know this, just as their forefathers did. They know how to store food, ready fuel, care for one another when the winds howl and the nights are long and frozen. The winter is unforgiving, but it is to be understood and respected. It is not the weather they fear, not truly.

It’s the woods.

There are things in the woods. Things with sharp teeth and wild eyes, things with claws and feathers and fur matted with the blood of unlucky prey. Things not of this world, that creep closer to town in the dead of winter as if they know there is nowhere for the citizens to run. 

Many townspeople will deny ever believing that the woods harbor anything worse than bears. But even they do not go too close to the woods at night, lock their doors extra tight when the snow begins to fall. 

One cannot blame them for their disbelief. After all, save for a few individuals who know the truth, few had ever seen the creatures that lurked within the pines.

Until, in the winter of 1880, all hell broke loose.

But the story does not start there. 

\----------------------------------------

It is July of 1880, and Duck Newton hangs up his hat for the day.

Well, not really, as he seldom removes his hat except for when manners dictate. 

He’s just finished checking over a stand of larches in the park at the center of town. Kepler, knowing well it’s green spaces are a draw to those with money, saw fit to employ him as an arborist. His task is to keep an eye on and tend to the health of the trees in all public areas.

He loves his job, loves tending to the trees, is content with the life he’s made in his hometown. 

It’s not solely the trees in the safety of the city that he loves. He’s never happier than when he’s in the woods near his house, winding through the trees, taking note of the creatures wandering with him.

It’s for this reason that he’s thought of by many in town as brave. His door faces into the unknown, and each day he steps from it unafraid of what may be watching from the shadows. Their admiration of him for that reason strikes him as silly, given that he doesn’t think of the woods as dangerous (and doesn’t believe in the weird creatures that supposedly live there).

Besides, his house isn’t the only building on the edges of town; there is also the Amnesty Lodge, owned by the capable and extremely intimidating Madeline “Mama” Cobb. 

It’s the door of this second building, specifically the restaurant within it, that he swings open after his long day.

“Evenin', Barclay!” He calls out towards the cook, who is busy wiping down glasses at the bar. Barclay gives him a nod and smile. 

“Duck! Duck!” A woman's voice calls from his right and he turns to find Aubrey Little, magician extraordinaire, waving him over to a table. 

“I finally figured out how to set Dr. Harris Bonkers” she gestures to the large rabbit gnawing the table leg “on fire. Safely.”

“Aubrey, does every trick gotta involve fire? Last time you had a show outdoors you nearly burned down half the park.”

“Pffh, that was one time. Oh, I already ordered your dinner, and Neds, since he should be here soon.”

“Dani joinin' us? Or is your fiancee busy?” He winks and Aubrey blushes. 

“No, she has to work. Oh, hi Ned!”

“Good evening Aubrey, Duck.” Ned Chicane, in the flashy suit he uses for work, settles in the chair next to Duck. 

“Fleece any rich folks today?” Duck teases as Barclay brings him a drink.

“Now, now, my friend, is it fleecing if I show them wonders and mysteries untold for a dollar or two?”

“Given that half the stuff in there you cobbled together yourself, yes.” The “there” is the Cryptonomica, a supposed museum of the strange and unusual that Ned, never one to pass up a chance of a semi-dishonest living, runs for the amusement of tourists. 

They pass an hour or so in friendly squabbling and chatter, and the restaurant actually fills with a mix of town-folks, lodge residents, and visitors.

One visitor catches Ducks eye as soon as he enters the room. He’s tall and handsome, with refined clothes and a confident bearing. He looks about, spies the empty seat across from Duck and meets his eyes. Duck nods towards the chair, an invitation to sit. 

“Thank you.” He smiles, smooths back his dark hair.

“Welcome. You passin' through?”

“Staying, actually, for what may be quite awhile. The name’s Stern.” He extends a hand and Duck shakes it.

“Duck Newton. This is Ned Chicane and Aubrey Little.” Stern shakes two more hands in turn. 

“Tell me, Mr.Stern, are you in search of some fine entertainment during your stay?”

Duck rolls his eyes, “Ned, the fella just got here.”

“That’s no reason for him not to explore the wonders of the Cryptonomica.”

“Indeed, Mr.Chicane, it’s not. The Cryptinomica will be one of my first stops. You see, I’m here on government business, ah, thank you.” He flashes a smile at Barclay as the cook hands him a glass of water.

“What, uh, what kind of business, exactly?” Ned asks in a voice that suggests he’s thinking fast. About what, Duck doesn’t know. 

“There have been many disappearances over the last few years in the woods around Kepler. That coupled with the towns reputation has lead to some concerns of foul play. Or, as is the opinion of myself and my superiors, evidence that something not of this earth is stalking in Kepler.”

“You honestly believe all those stories?” Duck downs the rest of his beer. 

“I do. While I know some dismiss the sighting, I find them intriguing. Animals larger than any bird seen in the night sky, tracks with too many claws to be bears, creatures that look like the strange children of apes and humans.” There’s a crash, and they all turn to see Barclay hurriedly picking up the pieces of the glasses he just dropped.   
Duck shakes his head, “Well Mr. Stern, ain’t gonna tell you how to do your job. But if you ask me, you’re wastin' your time. There ain’t nothin' unusual about those woods. 

\-----------------------------

Later that evening, Duck walks through the patch of woods by his home. Ponders whether he wants to wander down to the creek, or turn home and fall into bed. 

A scream tears through the trees in front of him, another voices’ cries mingling on top of it. He takes of running towards the noise. 

He follows them to clearing even as they die off. By the time he reaches it, only the usual sounds of the evening remain. 

In a patch of dirt and grass before him is a man, crumpled on the ground. Blood seeps through a tear in his shirt, red glasses sit askew on a face that does nothing when Duck steps closer, and there are sticks tangled in his pale hair. 

“Well…” Duck weighs his options, knows full well he won’t be leaving the man here but not looking forward to carrying him back, not with the god-knows-what that attacked him maybe still nearby, “.....Fuck.”


	2. All I Said Was Come On In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duck tends to his new acquaintance, who turns out to be stranger than anticipated.

Duck doesn’t believe in monsters, in the supernatural, in things weird or strange.

The irony of this is as follows: on his 18th birthday, he awoke to find himself much stronger than the average man. His sister called it a blessing; unkind neighbors called it proof that Mrs. Newton had dalliances with something not of this earth. Duck called it a fluke and proceeded to live his life mostly ignoring it.

Not that it didn’t come in handy: it made it easy to climb trees, to keep working when normal people would have collapsed, to run without being winded. 

Right now, his strength is helping him get a wounded man to his house. 

Once inside, he sets the limp, lanky frame on his bed and sets to work. The wound isn’t too bad, not deep enough to need stitching up. Odds are the fellow is in shock from the attack, hence his not responding when Duck gingerly peels his white shirt from his body. 

Duck boils water, retrieves a clean rag from the kitchen and settles by the bed. He’s on his second pass of cleaning the wound when the man hisses in pain and squints his eyes open. Then he yelps in surprise and backs away so quickly that he collides with the wall.

“Woah, hey, hey, it’s alright. Know that didn’t feel too nice but I promise I ain’t tryin' to hurt you. Just needed to get that cleaned up.” He points to the cut and the man looks at it, one hand pressed to his chest as he gets his breathing under order. 

“Apologies. It was not the pain so much as the surprise.”

Duck smiles reassuringly, “Understandable, wakin' up in a strange place is awful jarrin'.”

“As is waking up when it was likely you would never open your eyes again. I fully expected to bleed out on the forest floor only to be found dead by” he looks at Duck, seems to take him in for the first time “by you.”

“Beg pardon?”

“It is a long story, Duck Newton.”

“How did you-”

“Know my name” The man finishes on top of him, “I have seen you before. Uh, around town, that is. Oh, drat.” His wound is bleeding again, aggravated by his movement. Duck motions him to come close. The pale haired man perches on the edge of the bed and Duck continues his work. 

“Can’t say the same of you.”

“Indrid Cold.”

Duck looks up at him.

“My name. You were about to ask it.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr.Cold.” He cuts a strip of bandage, begins dressing the wound.

“Indrid, please. And I am glad to meet you too, Duck. Especially as it means I’m not dead in a clearing. Thank you, by the by, for saving me.”

“What else was I gonna do, leave you there?” He finishes bandaging the wound, goes to wash his hands and search for a spare shirt for his guest.

Indrid shrugs, “some people would’ve.”

“Yeah, well, some people ain’t got the decency god gave a sparrow.”

Indrid gives a light laugh, winces, “Are sparrows particularly moral?”

“Ever hear of a sparrow that robbed or killed someone?” Duck shoots back playfully.

“Can’t say I have. Though the image of one trying to lift a pistol is quite amusing.”

Duck pauses to picture it, then burst out into a laugh of his own. It takes a moment for him to collect himself (he tries not to laugh in front of strangers, as he’s been told it’s “a bit much”). Indrid is smiling softy, though the expression is...wider than Duck is used to.

“What a delightful sound.”

Ducks cheeks heat up and he quickly offers Indrid the clean shirt.

“Oh I couldn’t-”

“I insist, yours is too stained and torn to be much use even if you sewed it back up. Think it’s got dirt in its' stitches. Speakin' of which.” He fishes out another rag and sits beside Indrid as he dips it into a clean bowl of water, “your face looks like someone’s been rubbin' it in the dirt. Here.” He reaches to remove the red glasses and Indrid recoils.

“No, no, that’s quite alright. I believe I can manage myself.” He plucks the cloth from Ducks fingers and scrubs his face. He still hasn’t put the shirt on, and Duck can see lines of muscle on his arms and chest as he goes about cleaning, idly wishes he could trace a finger over them.

Duck shakes his head to clear it and stands. Maybe it’s been too long since he had a certain type of friendly company in his house. 

Finished washing his face, Indrid tugs the shirt over his head; it hangs off him, given the thinness of his frame compared to Ducks bulk, but he doesn't seem to mind.

“It’s quite warm.” Indrid sighs contently.

“Think anythin' would be compared to what you had on. Damn thing is nearly see-through it’s so worn.”

“I do not have much call to by new clothes. Nor much money with which to acquire them.” The admission seems to surprise him and he glances down at himself, brow furrowed. 

“What do you do?”

“I’m an...artist. Yes, an,uh an artist for hire. The wealthier visitors who have summer homes in this town do so love having drawings of themselves or the trees to put up in them. You are an arborist, yes?”

“Yep, nothin' too fascinatin' to most folks. Not quite as glamorous as an artist.”

“On the contrary, I think what you do is quite interesting. And in case it’s escaped your notice, I am far from glamorous.” He smiles with a sweeping gesture to his disheveled state. Duck perks up at his comment about his work, always eager for someone to talk to about the finer points of it, but then the taller man stands.

“I must be off. Thank you again for patching me up.”

“Now hold up, you’re still hurt and whatever attacked you may be lurkin' around. Don’t seem too wise to go out there tonight. More than happy to let you sleep here.”

Indrid shakes his head, “No, it will be best if I go. And the creature is not a concern, for now.” He steps to the door and Duck searches for a way to stop him leaving.

“But, uh, what about the, uh, um, robbers? Fuck, that have been around, uh, here.”

Two pale eyebrows arch, “That was an extraordinarily terrible lie.”

“Yeah, I know. Can’t blame a fella for tryin'.”

Indrid smiles again, the same wide and soft one he gave Duck earlier. “No, I don’t believe I can. Goodnight, Duck. I hope we meet again under better circumstances.” The door shuts and Duck sits for close to an hour, mulling over all of what happened. Indrid speaking as though he could see things coming, his surprise at Duck saving him. Something about the other man feels _important_. Though maybe that’s just the part of Ducks brain that wouldn’t mind having the odd looking man in bed with him talking. 

All the same, tomorrow after work he’ll ask around, see if anyone knows more about the mysterious Mr. Cold. He hopes he may even find Indrid himself, see him under those better circumstances he alluded to. 

Unbeknownst to him, the next circumstances will not be better.

They will be far, far worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Indrid has some regrets


	3. Grinning At My Window

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Indrid flies headfirst into danger, and then to Duck Newton's doorstep.

_Well_ Indrid Cold thinks as he hovers in the air _this is shaping up to be the worst possible timeline._

Below him, pacing to and fro, is a creature with too many limbs and teeth and antlers. It’s that final feature that got him last time, catching his stomach and sending him through the air. He’d been human during that fight. He is not making that mistake again. 

The monster lunges up, snapping at him and he flies higher, dark wings catching on branches. At least he has wings; the travelers passing by the woods did not and had he not caught the creatures attention it would have dragged them into the trees to a terrible end. 

A future changes in a flash and he tries to pull up further but the pines crowd him. The creature ricochets off one, then another, then up a branch and then it’s on him, bringing him to the ground with a crunch.

He screeches, piercing enough that the monster draws back and he snaps his teeth at it. It lets out a ghostly howl and what must be a half dozen clawed hands tear and scratch at him, his feathers littering the ground as he tries to get free. One slash hits his face and he screeches again, as enraged as he is frightened. 

He sees his chance coming. The monster rears back before bearing down to bite his throat and he just manages to grasp it’s head in his top set of hands. He digs his claws in as hard as he can, sensing a distinct squish and pop under them as the creature thrashes . He doesn’t release it even as it continues to swipe at him, until it’s writhed it’s last. He rolls it off of himself, torn sockets where it's eyes once were. 

Around him the trees spin, the sounds of the world go hollow and tinny. He’s hurt, doesn’t need to look down to know it’s bad. The futures tell him his time is short. He needs help, but he cannot go to the doctor and the only place in town he knows of with people he trusts is too far. 

No, not the only one. 

He slips on his glasses and immediately doubles over in pain; his tolerance for it is weakened by being in his human form. Forcing his feet to obey him he stumbles and weaves through the trees, desperate to reach his destination before it’s too late. Even if the man there can’t save him, at the very least he’ll pass away under a kind gaze rather than the cold eyes of the stars. 

By the time he sees it, the house is blurry. The knock at the door is more of a thud followed by a scratch, but footsteps come all the same. Light floods his vision as he falls to his knees and looks at the silhouette in the doorframe. 

“Please.” He whispers. Then the world is silent and dark.

\-----------------------

Duck had spent a week looking for Indrid with no luck. His luck was only slightly better when it came to learning about the other man. Barclay had at least confirmed his existence, and that last he’d hear Indrid lived in a run-down cottage on the south end of town. When Duck had asked where, exactly, the cottage was, Barclay could only shrug.

“Don’t know. He used to live at the lodge, stopped about six years ago and doesn’t really come around anymore.”

Duck’s lived in Kepler most of his life, he knows where almost everything is, knows almost everyone who’s in town for more than a few weeks. 

So why in God’s name has he never heard nor seen Indrid Cold until he found the man nearly dead in the forest? 

This is the question he’s pondering when there’s a dragged-out noise of something hitting his door. He crosses the room, swings it open. 

Bathed in the light spilling from the house Indrid looks otherwordly, on his knees and aglow. Then Duck’s eyes begin cataloguing all the injuries he can see. Indrid rasps something, collapses forward and Duck just manages to catch him before his head hits the floor. 

“What’ve you gone and gotten yourself into?" He murmurs, lifting Indrid and carrying him to the bed. His stomach turns as he sees the deep cut on Indrids leg, the other on his shoulder. The one on his face is minor by comparison but he can’t help feeling like it’s marring something sacred.

He works quickly, grabs a medical kit and a knife from the shelf. When you work high up in trees, and you live in a town that gets cut off from help for several months of the year, in Ducks mind it made a great deal of sense to know how to perform minor surgery. The knife is purely for getting Indrids shirt off, as he’s wary of bending his arms to remove it for fear they may be broken or sprained. 

As he cuts the cloth, he notices the way the shirt is hanging from the taller man. It’s his shirt. Indrid is wearing his shirt and that lights something fond and possessive in his core. Best not to dwell on that especially as he has to move to slicing his pants. 

Thank god he has on underclothes beneath the torn trousers. Duck doesn’t need the distraction of him laid out like a present when he’s trying to keep him in one piece. 

He sets about cleaning the wounds. As he touches the cloth to Indrids leg, there’s a high, pained chirring noise and the man stirs. Duck continues cleaning, pressing the rag to where the wound is deepest.

This time there’s a louder chirr and foot catching him in the chest, sending him off the bed.

When he sits up, Indrid is panting and whimpering in pain, but his eyes are wide with apology. 

“S-sorry.”

“Ain’t gonna hold it against you, but I need you to stay still if I’m gonna keep you from bleeding to death in my bed.”

Indrid nods sluggishly as Duck climbs up next to him. 

“Can you sit up?”

Another nod, and he slowly raises to sit, then promptly slumps forward. 

“I’m gonna have to stitch up your arm, and right now I don’t got anythin' to numb the pain with. Unless you count whiskey.”

Indrid’s face goes oddly blank, then he focuses back on Duck, “yes, actually. Anything will be preferable to the alternative.”

In the modest kitchen, Duck pours two shots worth of whiskey into a glass. When he brings it to Indrid the man is swaying and on the verge of passing out. But he takes the glass, downs it all. Winces and splutters, glaring at the remaining droplets, then stiffens his posture, clearly bracing for the oncoming pain. 

Duck tries to be delicate and gentle, succeeds at least in keeping his hands from shaking. They make it through most of the wound on his arm with only small whimpers and chirrs. Then he must hit a sensitive spot because Indrid cries out, braces a hand on Ducks left shoulder. He looks like he might apologize again and so Duck heads the words off. 

“S’alright, I can still work if you need to squeeze there.”

“Thank you.” Indrid grits out. The next pass of the needle makes him drop his head to Ducks shoulder with a groan. Two more and then he’s done.

“I gotta do your leg next. You can put your hand the same place if you need to.” Gingerly he shifts Indrids leg into his lap and begins stitching it up. The whiskey must be kicking in because Indrid is making fewer pained sounds. 

Still, if Duck didn’t have his super human durability, his shoulder would be bruised from how tightly Indrid grips it. 

After over an hour of home surgery, Indrid is stitched and patched up, but still too sickly looking for Ducks comfort. He helps him off the bed and eases him into a chair, strips the bloody sheet, and searches the kitchen for food. Brings Indrid some bread, a peach, and a glass of water.

“Sugar?” He looks at Duck hopefully.

Duck smiles, retrieves the small sugar bowl and sets it in front of him. Indrid upends it into the water, drinks it in one go and then devours the peach. When he starts licking his fingers, Duck directs his gaze elsewhere.

“I’d try to take my leave, but I’m quite sure you’d refuse to let me.”

“Wouldn’t hold you down or nothin', but I ain’t sure you can even make it to the door without your legs givi'n out.”

“I believe you’re right. If you’d be so kind as to give me a blanket I can sleep-”

“On the bed.” It’s a command, not an offer. 

“Very well.” Indrid smiles sleepily and almost falls out of his chair.

\------------------------------

Indrid blinks awake in the light of late morning sun. 

The bed he’s in is warm and soft, bigger than his own, and it smells pleasantly of wood and pine tar soap. 

He raises his head, futures shifting and reshifting as his mind comes fully out of sleep. With it come flashes of memory, of Duck tending to him with more care and affection that he's had in a long time. The mess of blankets on the floor near the bed show where the man slept. He must be at work, perhaps up in a tree somewhere. 

Indrid rolls onto his back with a groan, contemplates leaving soon and returning to his home. The futures suggest this will end in collapse, deep unhappiness, and/or sepsis. So he elects to stay.

The fact that he feels safe and is surrounded by the scent of his friend has nothing to do with it whatsoever.

In a while he’ll rise and see what he can find in Ducks kitchen. But for now all he wants is to sleep, and dream of mismatched eyes and kind, strong hands. 

\---------------------------------

Duck stretches his back as he walks through the door. He was checking up on the elms by the river park and nearly had a nasty fall. Wrenched a muscle, but nothing serious, and now he can relax with a cold drink and a book, put his feet up for the night. 

His eyes settle on the figure curled up in a chair by the (unlit) fireplace, wrapped in layers of blankets. 

Strike that, he’s going to spend his evening conversing with his guest (assuming said guest is up for it).

He hangs it hat by the door, finds Indrid so engrossed in whatever he’s reading that he doesn’t look up as Duck approaches. It’s only when Ducks boots crunch on the scattered drawings on the floor that he glances towards him and smiles brighter than the summer sun. Duck's own smile matches it when he spies what book is in his lap. 

“Heh, didn’t figure you for the type to look at plant pressins.”

“They’re lovely, and the notes are so interesting. Did you write them?”

“Indeed I did.” He sits on the edge of the chair, resting his arm on the back, “glad you’re enjoyin' them.”

“I've had quite a time browsing your little curiosity cabinet. Well, I suppose it’s more of a shelf.” He inclines his head towards the corner of the living room where stray items Duck finds during his work or his walks, along with his books of plant pressing and a few model ships, are housed. When he looks back at Duck he moves too quickly and twinges. Without thinking Duck drops his hand down and rubs at Indrids neck. The man goes still for a breath, then relaxes under his touch.

“How’s you’re, well, everythin'? You ain’t bleedin' again or anythin' like that?”

“No, your handiwork is excellent. I’m quite sore, but rest is helping considerably.”

“Good. I’m glad you stayed put. Half expected you to have tried crawlin' back home while I was gone.”

Indrid looks sheepish, “I thought about it. But seemed rude to repay your kindness with more worry.”

“I appreciate that.” He smiles down at him, even as the realization that he’s not sure what to do next creeps up his spine.

“Well, I better start fixin' dinner. You hungry?” He steps onto the floor and paper crinkles. 

“Oh goodness, I’m so sorry about this mess.” Indrid slips out of the chair onto the ground and gathers the papers into his arms, “just drawings, something to keep me occupied.” He tosses them into the wastebasket before Duck has a chance to get a look. 

“Happy to hear you found a way to pass the time. C’mon, keep me company while I cook. Uh, that uh is, if you want to.”

“I’d be delighted.” The words overlap on top of Ducks last sentence and Indrid follows him into the kitchen.

They pass the evening in pleasant conversation, Duck discussing work and Indrid discussing snippets of his life. When it comes time to turn out the lights, Indrid once again offers to sleep on the floor, only for Duck to shoo him onto the bed.

That Duck could just as easily find a way to help Indrid back to his own home as board him at the cabin is a fact that, strangely enough, neither of them chooses to mention. 

Indrid spends two more nights after that, in part because Duck is anxious about him re-injuring himself while he’s too far away to get help. So he stays, offering someone pleasant (if strange) to look at as Duck prepares for work in the morning and his guest sleeps, and someone to talk with in the evenings. Duck expects nothing in return, as far as he’s concerned he’s helping a friend in need. But he comes home one day to Indrid attempting to sweep the house (emphasis on attempting), finds a drawing or two on the wall that wasn’t there before, scenes of his favorite parts of the forest rendered in remarkably detailed black and white. 

The only hitch is on the third night, when he jolts awake to Indrid shouting. “Off” or maybe “wolf” or even “enough” he’s too disoriented to tell. When he sits up Indrid’s back is flat against the wall and he’s staring with horror out the window. Duck grabs his rifle, steps into the night to find it empty save for the cicadas and nighthawks. When he returns, Indrid is more coherent.

“It was a nightmare, the worst I’ve had in awhile. Sometimes they’re like that, they linger even when I wake up.”

He’s leaving something out, Duck can tell. But he doesn’t pry, instead checks Indrids stitches to make sure he didn’t reopen them when he flew awake and then nestles back onto his makeshift bed. The sound of Indrids breathing, interspersed with odd, soft chirps, lulls him to a peaceful sleep

On the floor near his head is Indrids notebook. Were he to open it, he would learn just what it was Indrid thought he saw outside.

And it would keep him wide awake with fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next: Duck makes Indrid an offer.


	4. That's The Last They Saw of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duck and Indrid grow closer while Stern finds a potential lead.

“Indrid, as a friend I feel I gotta tell you: this is gettin' fuckin' ridiculous.”

“What is?” Indrid glances over his shoulder at Duck, who is busy patching up a series of scratches on his back. 

“This” he gestures to injuries, to the scars dappling various parts of Indrids body, “this is what, the fifth time you turned up at my house torn up?”

“Sixth, actually. At least this time it’s not all that bad, it’s just in a spot that’s hard to tend to myself.”

Duck rolls his eyes as fondly as he can manage, “that don’t make it any better. Look, I know you said you ain’t gonna tell me why this keeps happenin' to you, and I ain’t gonna push it. But, well, seems to me sometimes like you’re doin' this just so you can see me.”

Indrid laughs, a little sharper and tighter than usual, “No, that’s not quite the reason. Besides, if I wanted excuses to see you, don’t you think I could find ones that didn’t involve grievous bodily harm?”

“Would you want to? See me more often, I mean?” He looks down at his hands, picks at the rag.

“In what way?” Indrid’s voice is tinged with caution.

“A friendly one. I like your company, and I don’t see any reason why we should only pass the time together when you need patchin' up.”

He looks up to find Indrid gazing at him softly.

“Yes, I think you’re quite right. Is there a...particular way you wished to go about it.”

Duck shrugs, “you could pay me a call when you aren’t bleedin', for starters.” He smiles to show he’s teasing and Indrid grins back, “I could come to see you, we could go out for a meal or a drink. Hell, you could sit in the grass and watch me work for all I care.”

“I actually rather like that last option.” Indrid shifts back and forth, a movement somewhere between nerves and excitement. 

Duck blinks at him in surprise.

“Really? Uh, I mean, I’d be happy to have you around but I gotta warn you it ain’t the most excitin' thing to watch.”

“You will be there. That’s sufficiently exciting as far as I’m concerned.”

After Duck manages to get his words to come out coherent and his face to stop heating up, they agree to meet on Tuesday in the central park, where Duck is checking over the health of some of the younger trees (he swears more of them are diseased this year than ever before).

Indrid arrives at the agreed upon time, settles into a sunny patch of grass and takes out his notebook. Duck sets to work, half-expecting the other man to be gone within the first hour. 

Instead, Indrid stays, only moving to follow the sun as it traces a path across the park. His focus is on his sketches much of the time, but more than once Duck looks down find a red-tinted gaze staring up at him.

Eventually he stops for lunch, settles comfortably next to a now-prone Indrid. 

“Anything interesting going on up there?”

“Can’t for the life of me figure out what’s causin' the yellowy spots on some of these. Never seen anythin' like it. Gonna have to start diggin' through my books to see if it’s an obscure disease or bug or somesuch.”

“You could ask Dani, she knows her plants.” Indrid slips his hands beneath his head.

“Wait, how do you know Dani?”

“I met her when I lived at the lodge. She’s quite nice, and she and Aubrey make an excellent pair. Or, um, so I’m told.”

“Uh huh.” The sound is drawn out as Duck weighs the odds of Indrid admitting to whatever lie he just told. He decides against it for now, “Drawin' anythin' interestin'?”

“Mostly just things I see, plus a piece for that rich couple with the house that overlooks the town.”

“Can’t say I’m fond of them.”

“Me neither, but money is money.”

The chat about this and that as Duck finishes his lunch. Afternoon fades into evening, even as the summer sun keeps the sky bright. It seems only natural that Indrid comes to dinner at Ducks house, that they talk until it’s well past dark. That he departs with a promise to see Duck again on Thursday. 

After two weeks of this pattern, Duck takes a chance and branches out.

“Aubrey’s havin' a show in the park. Wouldn’t mind havin' some company, if you’d like to join me.”

Indrid agrees readily, and when they sit down on a bench to watch he presses right against Duck (“best to leave space for someone else who may need a seat” “Right you are”). The taller man clearly enjoys himself, although he never shows much surprise at a reveal or the twist of a trick, even when the rest of the audience gasps. 

From further up in the crowd, Ned, Dani, and Barclay shoot a combination of perplexed and amused glances at the duo. Indrid doesn’t see them because he’s too busy watching the stage; Duck doesn’t see them because he’s too busy looking at Indrid. The way his face looks in the twilight, they way his eyes noticeably brighten behind his glasses when they meet Ducks own. 

He finds his courage after that night, begins asking Indrid to more and different places. Dinners out that inevitably end in a stroll through town, walks in the woods where they always take the longest route. Indrid peppers him with questions during those walks about the plants, the birds, the stars (although he slips up eventually, revealing that his knowledge of astronomy far outweighs Ducks, and then it’s Duck who gets to ask the questions and bask in the enthusiasm of his answers).

It’s after one of these walks that, as Duck puts the kettle on the stove to make Indrid tea (the man is somehow cold even in the sticky heat of August), Indrid picks up a feather from his curiosity shelf.

“Where did you find this?” He twirls it between his fingers.

“Out in the woods a few days back. Ain’t it somethin? Look at how big it is!” The feather stretches from Indrids fingertips past his elbow.

“Any idea where it came from?” He asks casually. 

“Not a damn clue. No bird in this part of the world has feathers that size. Whatever it is, must be incredible to look at, if the color on this is any indication.”

“Oh? It strikes me as fairly plain.”

“Far from it.” Duck plucks the feather from his fingers, carries it over to a lamp and holds it to the light, “looks better in sunlight, but this’ll do. C’mere.” He waves Indrid over, and the other man steps beside him.

“See, it ain’t flat black. It’s got a shine to it, purple and blue, almost like a magpie. Bet whatever dropped it is stunnin'.” 

Indrid looks at the feather, and Duck swears his cheeks are turning pink, “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“That’s what you got me for.” He brushes the tip of the feather across Indrids nose, causing him to scrunch it up in a way that’s downright adorable. 

The next day, Sunday, he answers the door to find Indrid holding a wicker basket.

“It’s going to be lovely today, and I recall you saying you didn’t have plans, so I thought maybe we could go on a” his confidence seems to falter and the word “picnic” comes out much softer than the others. 

Duck’s stunned enough that you could knock him over with that black feather. Indrid’s always been an eager companion, but he’s never initiated any outings or visits (unless you count turning up mostly dead at Ducks door).

“I’d love to. Don’t have much in the way of-”

“-Things to take on it.” Indrid must be excited, as he usually only overlaps Ducks words when he is, “I thought that might be the case. I stopped by the general store and…” his gaze goes far off and he turns bright red, then shakes his head, all in the span of two seconds “I asked Leo what he thought you might like.” Shyly, he lifts the lid of the basket for approval but Duck is too busy looking at him with unbridled affection to see what’s in it. Not that he’s worried, he trusts Indrid (and Leo, for that matter).

“That’s uh, just perfect, really, uh, lemme just get my hat and then we can, uh, y’know.” The words come out in a jumble, his fear of subjecting Indrid to unwanted advances warring with, and only barely defeating, his desire to tug the other man into his arms. 

They find a spot down by the river, Indrid laying happily in the sun and munching on fruit while Duck delights in finding a thermos of his favorite soup (how did Indrid even come by this) in the basket. Eventually he settles on his back next to Indrid, looks up at the sky. 

“Damn, this was a good idea. Don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner.”

“That’s what you have me for.” The smile is clear in Indrids voice. A moment later there’s a playful snap of his suspenders.

“Hey!”

“Come now, you told me you hardly ever feel pain. I imagine that felt no worse than a fly landing on you.” Indrid rolls onto his side towards Duck.

“Ain’t my body I’m worried about hurtin', it’s my dignity.” Duck teases back, rolling to face him. There’s a relaxed grin on that odd face, everything about Indrids posture is open and trusting.

He should kiss him now, close the distance and find out how Indrids body fits against his. 

Indrid sits up with yawn, “I believe I shall nap in the sun for a bit. I trust you to keep watch.” He flops back onto the ground, shuts his eyes with a satisfied sigh. Duck scoots closer, strokes Indrids hair as he sleeps. They’ll be other chances, and for now he’s perfectly happy to watch over him under the clear August sky.

\--------------------------------------

Indrid still turns up every now and then with an injury in need of care. But as August turns to September, it seems as though he’s being more careful. When he’s feeling hopeful, Duck likes to think it’s because Indrid doesn’t want to worry him.

It’s one of the first truly cool evenings they’ve had in months as he walks arm in arm with Indrid to the lodge. Indrid has been skittish about going there, citing the apparently awkward circumstances of his departure. But all it takes this time is some light coaxing from Duck and the reminder that Barclay bakes pie sweet enough to make angels weep and Indrid agrees. 

Aubrey waves from the corner table where she’s cuddled up with Dani as Duck and Indrid head to the bar. Duck smirks as he notices Barclay leaning across said bar to talk to Agent Stern, who mirrors his posture to such a degree that the two have maybe three inches of air between them.

Barclay brings their food and as they eat Duck runs through his plan for the evening; have a nice dinner, take Indrid back home, start a fire just for him, confess his feelings by the light of said fire, kiss.

Simple and effective. It can’t fail. 

Indrid finishes his dinner, excuses himself with a small smile. Since Barclay is making rounds to the other diners, Stern turns his attention to Duck.

“Pleasant evening?”

“So far. How’s the, uh, whole trackin' down missin' folks goin'.”

“Poorly, and your friend Mr. Chicane has been the opposite of helpful. I’m optimistic, however. There’s been an uptick in eyewitness reports, the kind of thing everyone dismisses as drunk ramblings or someone getting spooked, but they’re consistent enough that I believe they may lead me to my answer. Relatedly, you’ve been in Kepler your whole life, correct?”

“Yep, born and raised.”

“Did you ever hear of a man named Arlo Thacker?”

Duck nods, “Disappeared about six years back. Used to be a guide for folks who wanted to explore the woods without gettin' turned around. Recall some folks suspectin' foul play, but nothin' much happened beyond that.”

“And what do you think happened to him?”

“Who the hell knows? Could’ve taken a misstep and ended up at the bottom a ravine, could’ve misjudged a river, hell a bear could’ve gotten the better of him. Trust me, agent, there’s plenty of ways for a person to die in those woods that don’t involve no monsters.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Stern is eyeing him curiously, and so Duck stands and excuses himself to the washroom. As he moves down the hall, a voice catches his attention.

“What would you have me do, Madeline?” It’s Indrid, and he sounds upset.

“Be more goddamn careful, for starters. We can’t afford to go drawnin' attention to all this, not with winter comin' and folks gettin' jumpy. Not to mention that government fella hanging around.” Mama’s voice is gruff and exasperated as it spills under the door. 

“He seems more interested in Barclay.”

“That ain’t actually better.” There’s a groan, the sound of heavy boots pacing, “I know you’re tryin' to help, though I’m getting the sense you got _another_ reason for doin' all this.”

Indrid’s response is too quiet to make out. It's at this moment that Duck decides ignorance is bliss and heads back towards the restaurant. 

He’s distracted as he finishes eating, shifts his focus back to his plan to woo Indrid tonight, calms himself with daydreams of the way he might look spread out on the bed beneath him. 

It’s because of this that he doesn’t notice Barclay and Aubrey are both gone. 

Currently, they’re with Ned and Indrid as Mama leads them downstairs to the cellar. 

“I gotta warn you, might be a little unsettlin'.”

“Isn’t that like, everything we see on this job?" Aubrey nervously pulls at her vest all the same. 

“True. But well, in all my years, I ain’t ever dealt with anythin' like this.”

The door swings open. Aubrey gasps, Ned claps a hand over his mouth in shock, and Barclay’s eyes widen as he whispers, “my god.” Indrid understands why Mama came back so agitated from her expedition into the woods. The man they’re looking ats face is frighteningly blank as he growls low and inhuman in his throat. 

Arlo Thacker has been found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Duck puts his plan into action.


	5. Where Did You Sleep Last Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duck makes a discovery, and possibly some mistakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content note: Duck picks up someone for casual sex in this chapter as a way to cope with certain things. All the sex is consensual, but it's clear he's not making the best choice.

Ducks plan almost works. He succeeds in getting Indrid back to the cabin, the man happily chatting on his arm, whatever conversation he had with Mama not weighing on him too terribly. He gets the fire going, makes sure the house will be warm and cozy, turns to look at where Indrid is sitting on the bed. 

Indrid is sound asleep. He’s murmuring softly, chirping now and then, but seems peaceful. Duck brushes strands of hair behind his ears, tugs the blankets around him. Ends up falling asleep in a chair by the fire. 

Light creeping through the windows in the kitchen wakes him, and he moves softly about the house, not wanting to disturb the man huddled in his bed. The smell of coffee steadily fills the house, bird calls ringing clear and bright in the still morning

“Like to the lark at break of day arising from sullen earth” Indrids voice drifts into the dawn.

“Sings hymns at heavens gate.” Duck concludes, turning to Indrid with an expression more lovesick than he means it to be, “those ain’t larks though. Cardinals.”

“Not nearly as common in sonnets.” He sits up with a yawn, hair tousled, and sniffs the air.

“My folks had a big ol’ book of all his stuff. Plays and the poems. Used to read ‘em to my sister and me when we were started goin stir crazy during the winter. Always did like that one.”

“Didn’t take you for a romantic.” Indrid offers a coy smile as Duck chokes on his coffee. He's been trying to be romantic for weeks now.

“Hey, more to me than trees and patchin' up fellas who get into trouble. Speakin of which, I wanna check that burn on your stomach from a few days ago.” With a waving motion, he indicated that Indrid should take his shirt off. 

Too late, he remembers this will mean Indrid is shirtless in his bed. 

\-------------------------------------

Indrid tosses his white workshirt aside, rests his hands casually on the bed, opens his legs so Duck can kneel between them and inspect the pink, healing patch of skin. Wishes, not for the first time, that Ducks fingers didn’t send light racing through his veins

“Healin' up nice. That’s good. I was worried it’d get infected.”

“No, merely a bit tender. I imagine it’ll be gone in a few more days.”

One of Ducks hands traces a pattern up Indrids thigh.

“Y'know, there’s a trick that sometimes works to get bruises and such to go away faster.”

“Oh?” 

Duck’s gaze flicks up to his briefly, drawing strength from it. Then he leans forward and down, pressing his lips to the mark just below Indrids ribs. He gasps, and as his fingers cup the back of Ducks head, a hand comes to rest on his other thigh. Warm palms ghost up and down his legs as Duck moves from scar to scar, scrape to scrape, lips tracing constellations of kisses across his body.

The feeling of warm breath, of the barest hint of tongue on his flesh almost undoes him. It’s when soft, weak moans slip from Ducks throat that his control evaporates. How can he deny the man he adores what they both want, when said man is taking such pleasure from so small an act of affection?

He curves forward, lips grazing the top of Ducks head before he presses his face against it. More kisses can come in a moment, right now he needs to be buried in that soft hair, inhaling pine and soot and a smell that belongs only to Duck. As he nuzzles him, the shift in posture brings Duck closer to him and he hums at the increased contact. The man between his legs lets out a full-throated groan, arms encircling Indrids lower back. 

The kisses are growing in urgency the closer they get to Indrids neck. All he wants is to bear his throat to the heat and the want radiating from Duck, to be consumed by it.

As he lifts his chin to do so, his reflection stares at him from the window, backed by the night sky. The image brings the futures he’s pushed aside clamor to the front of his mind, and he knows what he has to do.

“Duck?” He looks down just as Duck raises his head.

“Yeah, darlin'?” The pet name makes his mismatched eyes shine when he utters it, as if it was a secret he’s been longing to share. 

Indrid shuts his eyes for the briefest breath, as if that will keep him from seeing what comes next. 

“We need to stop.”

The smile falters, then drops, but the hope in his gaze stubbornly remains. 

“Oh, uh, that’s alright, didn’t mean to go faster than you wanted.” He takes Indrids hands, rubbing the knuckles soothingly with his thumbs, “just tell me what you need, darlin, and I'll do it.” The smile is rallying, brought back from the brink of death as Duck reassures him.

Indrid needs it to die. For both their sakes. 

“I ought to be going.” Grabbing his shirt he stands so suddenly that Duck has to scramble backwards to avoid being knocked over, “Thank you for dinner last night, and for letting me stay.”

“Indrid wait, please, wait.” Duck grabs hold of his hand as he turns towards the door, “I didn’t mean no harm, and I so fuckin sorry if I figured things wrong and did somethin' unwanted. Won’t do it again, I promise.”

Indrid conjures his best smile, pats the hand holding his twice before he lets go.

“I know you won’t. I’ll stop by tomorrow.” He turns on his heel, leaves without looking back. He doesn’t need to; the hurt on Ducks face is visible in every timeline.

\--------------------------------------------

Indrid doesn’t come back tomorrow. Or the next day. Then it’s a week gone and Duck has seen neither hide nor hair of the man. He doesn’t want to intrude on his space, but he’s worried. So he stops by the general store, buying a small bag of the sweets Indrid likes, before heading to his home. It’s dark, so he leaves the bag by the door with a small note attached.

_Indrid,_

_I’m sorry for going too far. I miss you, and would like to see you. But if you need space, I understand._

_Sorry again,_

_Duck._

At the week and a half mark there’s a knock on the door in the evening and Duck leaps out his chair.

“Good evening, Mr.Newton.”

Goddamn it. Goddamn it all.

“Uh, evenin' Agent Stern. What brings you out here?”

“I am in need of some zoological expertise, and was told you might be able to help me. May I?” The taller man gestures across the threshold and Duck steps back, inviting him in. 

“Know my plants better than my animals, but I’ll do my best.”

Stern stands by one of the gaslights, removing a handkerchief from his breast pocket and unfolding it. Duck peers at the contents; hair, definitely not human, dark reddish-brown, coarse looking but fairly soft to the touch.

“Thoughts?” A dark eyebrow arches.

“Maybe someone’s dog, some kind of rare breed, but that’s a weak guess at best. I ain't ever seen this kind of fur before.”

“Would it help to know that this was found near some very large footprints, clearly from something bipedal?”

“Uh, not really. That makes even less sense. Only thing walkin' around those woods on two feet for more than a few steps is a human.” He scratches the back of his neck, “sorry I can’t offer you more help.”

“On the contrary, this is most helpful. It means I can eliminate known creatures from my search and concentrate on finding something as yet undiscovered…” Keen blue eyes zero in on Ducks curiosity shelf. Stern keeps staring at it, lips quirking up ever so slightly, as he tucks the handkerchief away. 

“As I said, most helpful. I shall take my leave.”

“Glad I could help you out.” Duck ushers him out the door, leaving out the part where he’s glad for any sort of distraction these days.

When September ends and October begins Duck is, to put it mildly, completely fucking frantic. 

Indrid hasn’t come to see him, he nor anyone he asks has seen the other man about town, and the only other time he passed by his little house it was deserted. 

He’s passed being angry at himself for misreading the whole situation and making Indrid uncomfortable, and is now solidly furious at himself for making him so unhappy that he’s disappeared from the face of the earth.

“What if he hates me?” He moans half to Ned and half to his glass of beer.

“Come now, I’m sure after a time you’ll see him once again. Perhaps he was called away by family.”

“But what if he got hurt, what if he was out in the woods and got into whatever it was he kept gettin' into and was too scared to come to me.” His voice is rising, Barclay shooting him a worried glance. 

“Duck, it’ll be okay-”

“Aubrey, I can’t know that and neither can you. He could be hurt, he could be _dead in the goddamn woods_ because I chased him off and, and” he downs his drink in one go, “and that settles it. I’m puttin' together a search party, don’t fuckin' care if I’m the only member of it or if y’all feel like taggin' along. I have to find him, I have to make sure he’s alright, and if he ain't I, I, I have to bury him decent--why are y’all lookin at me like that?”

Ned removes his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose, “I cannot believe I am the one about to say this but: we owe you the full truth, Duck.”

“Ned…” Barclay warns.

“I’m sorry, Mama can chastise me as much as she pleases, but I cannot continue seeing my friend in such distress.”

“I’m with Ned on this.” Aubrey takes Ducks hand, smiles at him like a sister, “Indrid’s okay, Duck. I know because I saw him this morning. He’s staying at the lodge.”

The world tilts so hard Duck's amazed the tables aren’t sliding. 

“What?”

“He’s taken up residence here, for a number of reasons-”

“How long has he been here?”

Ned gulps, “Weeks.”

“Weeks, _weeks_?! I been sick thinkin about all the bad shit that could’ve happened to him and he’s been here? Why didn’t y’all tell me?” He’s not angry, he isn’t, he just feels like a feral, raging animal is clawing its way from his chest.

“He asked us not too.” Aubrey rubs her arm, looks at him with so much sympathy that he could scream. 

“Does he hate me that bad? Did I hurt him that much.” Ducks voice drops to a horrified whisper. Ned and Aubrey exchange a helpless glance. 

“It’s not about that, Duck” Barclay offers, and when Ducks head snaps to regard him those deep brown eyes are sad, “there are things going on that, well, that mean he needs to steer clear of you. Far as I can tell, he misses you as much as you miss him, maybe even more.”

All the anger Duck's been hurling at himself for the last month curdles in his chest, takes on a new form.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure he does” he drawls, not able to keep the sneer from his face, “just like y’all would never lie to me about somethin' as important as his feelin's. Ain’t like you lied about important shit before.”

“Duck, wait-”

“My friend, we were only looking out for both-”

“There’s more going on than we can-”

“Spare me.” Duck slaps his money down on the bar, silencing his friends. Stalks towards the door, the revelations of the last few minutes simmering beneath his skin. Someone in the corner catches his eye, and suddenly he knows exactly how to burn the heat off.  
\------------------------------

The bed groans and creaks in time with Ducks movements, the man beneath him moaning after a particularly hard thrust. He’s redheaded, clearly just passing through town, and all it took was the right kind of smile and flattery from Duck to have him naked and face-down on the bed. At a guess, this isn’t his first time at such a casual tryst (it isn’t Ducks, either).

Duck’s heart is flayed open; his friends lies, Indrids absence, the fact that everyone seems concerned about protecting him but doesn’t give a good goddamn about his feelings. The least he could do for himself, he’d decided, was make it so that he wasn’t hornier than a bull in spring on top of everything else. 

He shuts his eyes, pictures white hair instead of red, conjures up the way Indrid sounded when he’d last embraced him. The little sighs, the hum deep in his chest that Duck felt in his cheek.

His climax is sharp, unsatisfying, and as he finishes he reaches a hand down to stroke the other man until he spills on the blanket. 

They barely say three words to each other as they dress, although the redhead is unbothered, offering a smile and a thank you before he departs. 

Duck doesn’t feel any better. Less pent up, maybe, but not better. 

Perhaps an old stand-by will sooth him. He tugs on his boots and his lighter coat, heads out into the dusk. Wanders among the trees, inhaling deeply, smiling when a pair of owls call _who-cooks-for-you_ back and forth. This is what he ought to have done in the first place, come here to clear his head in the steady thrum of nature. He knows that now, shrugs up at the stars as if to say “live and learn.”

He heads along the creek, frogs and crickets chorusing, until he’s deep in the woods. Tomorrow he’ll call on Ned first thing to apologize, then stop by the lodge to do the same for Aubrey and Barclay. The he’ll tend his trees, eat his dinner, let his life slip back into it’s old patterns. He’ll forget about Indrid Cold.

There’s a cracking of branches off to his left and he pauses; not too loud, so not too big. Most likely a deer, at worst a bobcat. Then the underbrush in front of him bursts and he jumps back in surprise as a man stumbles onto the bank.

Indrid. 

He’s going too fast, nearly overbalances into the water, and Duck steadies him without thinking. The taller man takes one good look at him and his eyes widen with terror. 

In the trees behind him, something growls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote Indrid says upon waking up is from Shakespear's sonnet 29, pulling from the lines:  
>  Haply I think on thee, and then my state,  
> (Like to the lark at break of day arising  
> From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven’s gate.
> 
> The short version of the poem is that, whenever the speaker thinks on their poor or unhappy lot in life and wishes they were which or powerful, they remember they love and are loved by the subject of the sonnet, and decide they would not trade said love for all the money in the world. 
> 
> Shakespeare was very popular in the U.S during this time period, in fact it was basically pop culture in terms of how many people knew the work. Many families had books of Shakespeare that they read regularly, which is how come Duck is able to complete the line so easily. 
> 
> Next up: Something flies, Duck fights, and Indrid freezes.


	6. I Shivered the Whole Night Through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duck learns some new things about his friends, and spends more time in bed than planned.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Indrids voice is tight, afraid. 

“Judgin' by that growlin', neither should you.” 

“Nono, I mean, oh blast it all, that young man ought to have stayed at least a half hour longer in your house. In most futures he did!”

“Young man? Wait, have you been _spyin'_ on me?” 

“No! I can explain later, right now you need to run.”

Duck grabs his hand, “Only if you come with me.”

Indrid squeezes his palm, eyes apologetic, “It’s too late.”

A shadow arcs over their heads, landing between them and the creekbed, screaming like a cougar. It whips it’s head towards them, fangs bared. 

“What the fuck?” Duck steps in front of Indrid, facing the monster. Its like nothing he’s ever seen; a long, serpentine body, four legs ending in flesh-rending claws like an alligator. Face like the nightmare version of a fisher cat, wings that extend when it arches its back and hisses at them. 

“Get down!” Indrid yanks him to the ground as the creature lunges. The bank gives under their heels and they slide and tumble into the water. It’s not steep, barely over two feet to fall, but it’s disorienting and by the time they’re on their feet the creature is stalking towards them. 

Duck picks up the largest stick he can find, prepared to use all his strength to fend it off. He doesn’t notice what Indrid’s doing until it’s too late.

A rock strikes the monster’s head and it growls, snarls when another hits it. Both it and Duck turn to see Indrid, poised to throw a third. 

“What are you _doin_?” Duck hisses, and he swears Indrid smiles, sadly.

“Ensuring that, if I survive this, you’ll be alive to patch me up.” He hurls the rock and sprints away from Duck, the creature screaming as it gives chase. Duck follows suite, splashing through the shallow water.

Indrid’s remarkably fast, but the monster leaps and only has to flap it’s wings twice before it has him, knocking him to ground. 

There’s a screech of pain.

“Indrid!” The cry draws the monsters attention, and when it turns his stomach twists; it’s jaws are sunk into Indrid’s shoulder. 

Duck does the first thing that comes to mind, stomps as hard as he can on its tail. It yowls, releasing the wounded man. 

“Right, you ugly sonofgun, you ain’t touchin' him again.”

CRACK

The gunshot is deafening, sends pieces of the opposite bank flying in all directions. Duck whirls, finds Mama above him, poised to fire her shotgun.

“Duck, get the hell out of there. Barclay, get Indrid. Aubrey, singe it’s whiskers.”

A swoosh of heat and light and the creature rears back as Duck scrambles up the creekbed. When a hand helps him the rest of the way he takes it, coming face to face with-

“Ned?”

“Indeed, my friend.” 

“Uh Ned, why are Aubreys' hands on fire?”

“So I can keep that bom-bom from eating us.” She launches another blast of flame, etching a burn on the creatures face. It gives a final hiss before bounding into the trees, Mama firing after it. 

“Damn!”

“Mama? We need to get Indrid back to the lodge. Now.” Barclay is carrying the other man, whose eyes are at least open.

“No” his voice is far too quiet “not the lodge. I won’t make it. I’m already so cold. Take me to the-”

“Cabin” Duck finishes as Indrid gasps and shudders, then nods. Barclay looks at Mama, who nods as well.

“Lead the way.”

\---------------------------------

As soon as they’re through the door, Barclay lays Indrid on the bed and starts building a fire. Duck pulls the blankets around him, digs into the chest at the foot of the bed for more. Aubrey perches beside Indrid, holding his hand.

“Ah, Lady Flame, if only you could light me on fire as safely as you do your furry companion.” Indrid murmurs. 

“Not that advanced in that spell yet, Indrid. Are you that cold?”

“Freezing.”

“Shock?” Duck asks, piling another blanket on him.

“The bite.” Mama is staring out the window, keeping watch, “that particular abomination is known for havin' a bite that freezes its victims from the inside out. Indrids only chance is If we can keep him warm long enough to figure out a cure.”

“What about Thacker’s notes?” Ned muses.

“Might work” Barclays knees crack as he stands, “What if Ned and I search them for answers while Aubrey enchants something to keep Indrid at a safe temperature?”

“Best plan we got. Duck, you alright stayin' here and lookin after him?” She huffs out a laugh at the incredulous expression on Ducks face, “sorry, forgot I was talkin' to the fella who has been head over heels for him for months. Keep his temperature up, and whatever you do, don’t let him fall asleep. Aubrey and I will be back as soon as we can.”

The quartet disappears into the night, leaving him with the injured, shivering man in his bed. He has so many questions, so many explanations he wants to demand; what just happened, why were Ned and Aubrey fighting monsters, why had Indrid abandoned him? But instead of any of those he turns to Indrid with simple query.

“Anythin' you need?”

“More blankets? Coats or thick shirts might work as well.”

Duck unfolds the remaining two quilts onto the bed, fetches his winter jacket and two large, flannel shirts, bundling Indrid under or in them.

“Better?”

“For now, yes. I, uh, I feel it’s best to warn you, I will likely become delirious as the poison gets into more of my system.” Indrid manages to sit up, looking like an animate linen closet. 

“So if you start talkin' about purple deer or jellyfish on the ceiling I’ll know they ain’t actually there?”

“Not quite. It’s a different sort of delirium; I’ll likely get my timelines mixed-up.” 

“Your...timelines?”

Indrid sighs, “I can see the future, Duck. Or, more accurately, futures. Probable outcomes, directions events may take, each time a future resets because of a decision someone makes. It’s helpful when the Pine Guard, Mama and the others, need to get the drop on a monster, or if I need to know when someone I care about is in danger.”

“That's how you knew about the fella I brought home.”

Indrid nods, shoulders drawing in and lips pursing, “I didn’t look for long, just enough to know that in most futures you stayed here, occupied with him and out of harms way.”

“It bother you?” 

“Not intellectually, no. I could hardly assume you’d simply spend the rest of life waiting, celibate, on the off-chance you saw me. Especially when I knew this was the timeline where our friends told you the truth. But, well, I suppose I rather wish-” A pained gasp followed by a full body tremor cuts him off and Duck is on the bed in an instant, steadying him. Even through the layers of fabric, cold radiates off his skin. 

“Shit.” Duck rubs his arms, trying to generate any small, additional warmth. Then an idea occurs to him.

“I, uh, I could get into the bed with you. Uh, assumin' you were okay with that. More than happy to share my body heat for a good cause.”

“That would be appreciated.”

Duck tugs off his shoes and overshirt (which he adds to the pile on the bed), climbs beneath the blankets. Indrid immediately sighs, shivering less and wriggling towards him under the covers. Stops, eyes owlishly wide behind his glasses.

“May I cuddle you?” 

Duck rolls on his side, opens his arms and Indrid burrows against him. That odd chirring noise is coming from his throat, though it’s...happier? Relieved? Either way, it’s not the pained sound he often heard when tending Indrids wounds. Indrid is molding himself to Duck, head nestled beneath his chin and legs drawn up towards his chest. 

“I missed you so much.” Indrid whispers, breath chilly against his neck. 

“Missed you too.” Duck nuzzles his hair.

“I know I ought to explain but it’s getting” he rubs his forehead on Ducks undershirt with a groan “it’s getting harder to think. To make myself clear. That conversation must be had when I’m well. It’s too important.”

“Think I can wait a bit” the words feel odd as they leave him, given that even this morning he though he might die from not knowing why Indrid left. But he knows they’re the right thing to say, far more important than all the frustration and worry he’s felt the last month. Right now all he cares about is Indrids well-being. 

“Thank you for the candy, that was very sweet of you. Heh, sweet.” Indrid snorts out a laugh.

“Glad you got it. Though raccoons might’ve run off with it before you got home.”

“I don’t like raccoons, they know too much. They must, what with those eyes and those” he opens and closes his fingers a few times, “grabby hands of theirs.”

“They’re awful clever sometimes, I’ll give ‘em that.”

“Mmm, don't want to talk about them anymore. Want to sleep.”

“You can’t, you gotta stay awake.” He keeps his tone light, even though worry is running roughshod through his chest. 

“But you’re so very comfortable.” Indrid whines, wiggling closer. 

“Flatterin' as that is, don’t change that fact that fallin' asleep now may mean never wakin' up.”

“Nghn” Indrid huffs.

“How about you tell me more about, uh, about raccoons. Or possums. Or, if you ain’t feelin' like talkin' about nature, could tell me about your family or somethin'.”

“Family is far away. Youngest, I’m the youngest, they weren’t bad but I like humans better. Like it here” he clings tighter to Duck at that “like you. Like the lodge, even if they’re mad at me.”

“Don’t seem like they’re mad.”

“Neither do possums. But then they hiss at you when you try to pet them.”

Duck can’t help the giggle that bubbles from his chest, “Why’d you try to pet a possum? Didn’t you see that it wouldn’t like it?”

“There were futures where it liked it!” He harrumphs, then chirps out a laugh.

“You had any more run-ins with wildlife I should be concerned about?”

As it turns out, Indrid has more than few wildlife based mishaps in his past (“I was new in the area, I was still figuring things out”). Yet despite Ducks best attempts to keep him talking about them, his eyelids droop and then, mid-sentence about a goose, his neck goes limp.

“Indrid?”

No response.

“Indrid? C’mon darlin', stay with me.” He shakes him lightly. Still nothing.

“Indrid!” He's breathing, but nothing else. Panicked, Duck does the first thing he can think of to jolt Indrid out of it.

He bites him on the back of his wrist. Hard, not enough to break the skin but certain to leave a mark and Indrid gasps awake.

The seer looks at this hand, then at Duck, brows furrowed.

“You weren’t respondin, I’m so sorry, I shoulda thought of somethin else.”

“It’s alright, it did the trick rather nicely. Also it’s better than the timeline where you got so panicked you dropped a hot coal on me.”

Duck cringes at his alternate selfs' choices.

“If I fall asleep again, you have my permission to do that again.”

“Got it. Hopefully it won’t come to that-oh for fucks sake.” This last part he says to himself, as Indrid is once again limp. Not wanting to cause too much damage to one spot, he bites his thumb this time.

“Ouch!Thank you. Oh goodness, this venom works very fast.”

“Not reassurin'!”

“The truth seldom is. Tell me a” he yawns “a story, something exciting so I’ll stay awake.”

“Uh, um, okay, lemme think.” He used to make up stories for Jane when she was little, all he has to do is tell one of those with touches that Indrid will like. “Uh, once upon a time, there was this...prince. He lived in a dangerous land, full of monsters. One day, he was sent away to a new kingdom, where he was to serve as an...oracle.” He glances at Indrid, who is staring at him, rapt. 

“But the prince was lonely, and this kingdom was still real fuckin dangerous. So he was assigned a knight to keep him safe. One day, as they were walking in the woods, they were ambushed…”

He has no idea how long he rambles for, just that as he’s describing how the prince declares his love for the knight at the ball, Indrid flops against him, snoring.

“Shit” he bites his shoulder, but Indrid doesn’t stir. When he closes his teeth on the skin of his neck it’s like tasting ice. The man hisses in pain. Then the sound morphs, becoming a moan as his eyes flutter open (when did they get like this, at what point had Indrid rolled on his back and Duck leaned over him)

Duck starts sitting up to give him space, when a cool hand cups his cheek. He barely avoids the oncoming kiss, rolling back onto his side, Indrid mirroring the motion.

“Come come, my love, it’s alright. It’s our wedding night, no need to be shy.” 

“It’s our _what_?” This must be what Indrid meant about getting lost in time. The taller man reaches for Duck, who catches the hands between his own.

“Think you’re gettin' ahead of yourself.”

Indrid tilts his head, shakes, looks at him again, “Oh, oh I am sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep in your bed. You’ve done so much, saving me from dying in a clearing.”

“Annnnd now you’re behind yourself.”

Another tilt, another shake and then Indrid is whimpering, burying himself beneath the blankets, whispering in fright, “It’s here, it’s here, oh my love forgive me, we are not safe, it’s here.” 

The door slams open and Duck yelps, is on his feet in an instant.

“I come bearing a blanket!”

“Aubrey, oh thank fuck.”

“You okay, Duck?”

“Yeah, Indrid’s startin' to mix up his visions and I got caught up in one.”

“Well, at least his ain’t leavin' it to me to explain everythin.” Mama leans against the door as Duck and Aubrey help Indrid from the bed and wrap him up. They keep him between them as Mama steers the wagon back to the lodge. The darkness is heavier than usual, the sounds of the woods and the vague din of the nightlife in town jarring rather than familiar.

He’s never been happier to see the lights of the lodge.

\---------------------------------------------------

Indrid is safe in the bed. The blanket Aubrey enchanted will keep his temperature where it needs to be, so he can sleep as much as he needs to without fear of the cold overtaking him.

Duck watches him like a hawk from his chair all the same. A tired hawk with a lot on it’s mind. 

Like the fact that he’s agreed to help the Pine Guard catch the monster that attacked them.

“Tatzelwurm ” Ned said triumphantly when they’d gotten to the lodge, producing a notebook that once belonged to Thacker, “And by an immense stroke of luck, our friend recorded how to cure someone who’s been bitten. You need to mix a few drops of venom with boiling water, yarrow, and honey to make a singular concoction.”

“In other words, we need to catch it again so we can make an antidote.” Barclay explains with a roll of his eyes. 

“Great, which one of us wants to wrestle a fuckin' Tatzelwurm ?” Mama rubs her temples. 

“I might be able to.” Duck offers, “got all this weird strength, may as well use it to help y’all.”

His friends blink in shock.

“You sure?” Mama looks skeptically hopeful.

“Tonight I’ve learned my friend are monster hunters and Indrid can see the future. Sure, I’ll add some monster wrestlin' to that, why the fuck not?”

So now he’s waiting by Indrids' side for the clock to strike two. Passes the time by noticing and re-noticing the bruise on Indrids neck from where he bit him, and analyzing the strange burst of pleasure, possessiveness, guilt, and longing that courses through him each time he does. 

Two chimes of the clock on the dresser.

With one last look (hopefully not _the_ last) at the man in the bed, he heads down into the kitchen.

“Ah, nice to see you again Mr. Newton!”

Judging by the way Barclay worries his lip when Stern looks away from him, the agent is not supposed to be here.

“Likewise.”

“You might like to know that my consulting with you worked out quite well. Based on what you and a few others have said, I believe the fur is from a creature that the locals call ‘Bigfoot.’ And that feather on your shelf confirms my theory that there is also a flying creature in the area. If you happen to find anymore unusual items, please let me know.” He turns away from Duck, pecks Barclay on the cheek, and leaves the kitchen.

“Soooo, you and agent Stern, huh?”

“Yep.” Barclay’s blushing.

“Seems like a nice enough fella, bet you two make a good pair.”

A deep sigh, “we do, but there’s one hitch.” Barclay slips off the woven bracelet on his left hand. Suddenly, there’s a figure with dark reddish-brown fur and big feet standing in his place.

“Ah, yep, I can see how that might be a problem.”

\----------------------------------------------

Barclays bigfoot form might pose issues for his romantic pursuits, but Duck finds it immensely helpful when keeping a Tatzelwurm from biting his hand off. 

They used Ned and his booming voice for bait, and as soon as the creature appeared Duck leapt on it. Held fast as it thrashed and yowled, managed to pin its wings to its sides and trap it on the ground. He’s still in that position as Barclay keeps the abomination in a headlock so it can't whip it’s neck and bite Ducks hands. A glass jar with cheesecloth stretched across the top takes the bite instead, venom dripping into the bottom. 

There’s a snap of vertebrae and the form under Duck collapses. Okay, so his friend is also terrifyingly strong when he’s Bigfoot. Good to know.

“Seemed like the easiest way.” Barclay shrugs, becoming human mid-motion. 

The night becomes a blur of Barclay and Aubrey making the antidote while Mama and Ned ask Duck if he wants to officially join the guard. By the time the antidote is in Indrids body, he’s said yes. 

He says “no” however to the offer to sleep in the lodge. After everything that’s happened, he’s longing for the comforting familiarity of his home. Ned travels back with him, since the cabin is en route to his apartment above the Cryptonomica. 

Duck falls onto the bed, drops to sleep under too many blankets. Thanks every known force that tomorrow is Sunday so he doesn’t have to work.

When he next awakens, it’s Sunday afternoon. The house needs tidying, so he tidies it, putting blankets back in the chest and fixing himself a late breakfast. It’s as he’s washing up after his meal that the knock comes. 

He opens the door to find Indrid standing, hands behind his back and a determined look in his eyes.

“I believe it’s time you and I had a talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: A conversation.


	7. I Lay Down in His Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Indrid and Duck have a long over-due conversation.

There is no future where Duck slams the door in his face. 

Even so, Indrids heart is threatening to shatter his rib-cage.

Duck stands perfectly still for a moment before nodding, “Guess you better come inside then.” He steps back and Indrid follows (anywhere, he’d follow him anywhere). As Indrid hangs up his coat, Duck leans against the table, crossing his arms expectantly.

“Seems like you oughta go first.”

“Indeed. I already told you I'm a seer, so I won’t belabor that point, although you can ask about it later if you wish.” He’s pacing, that’s always helped him keep his thoughts in order, “But I promised I’d explain why I disappeared. It has to do with my visions. You see, the night we met, I’d made a choice; the abominations were becoming more plentiful than the Pine Guard could manage, and I foresaw people dying as a result, so I decided to stop them. Alter the future”

Duck’s listening intently, he can tell by the angle of his jaw. This part is easy, this part he’s been prepared to say for some time.

“I don’t need to tell you the result of my first attempt, as you’re well acquainted with it. And the results of more or less every attempt after that. I kept coming back because you were kind and competent, because even without foresight I knew you wouldn’t harm me. Then it happened; a vision where the abomination went after you during a walk. I couldn’t bear the slightest chance of that happening so I sought the creature out immediately, hours before it had the chance to stumble on you.”

He pauses, finds Duck no longer leaning but just as still and focused.

“It wasn’t the worst fight by far. But it kept happening, I kept having visions of abominations finding you. It took me awhile to figure out why: those futures were becoming more likely because of the way we felt about each other. The closer we became, the greater the risks.”

His feet won't move, he’s stuck by the end of the bed and it’s taking all his energy to force these words out.

“The night you kissed me, I couldn’t stop seeing those futures. So I fled.”

“You left to protect me?” Duck steps towards him. He can’t tell if his tone is hurt or touched.

“It was for the best, although I hated to do it. I swore the others to secrecy, afraid that even a passing exchange between you and I would break my resolve.” His gaze is stuck to floorboards, “Trust me, Duck, you do not want me in your life again. You don’t want those futures stalking you, no matter how small their odds. You don’t want what caring for me might bring.” Feet enter his field of vision and his head snaps up. Duck is looking at him, one eyebrow raised.

“That so?” 

He extends his right hand, placing the tips of his fingers on Indrids chest. Barely puts any pressure behind them but Indrid falls onto his back nonetheless, the bed painfully familiar beneath him. Indrid crawls back, meaning to sit up, but Duck is half on the bed already, arms on either side of his thighs. There's no anger in his eyes, just determination and a strange kind of flirtation.

“You got a hell of a lot of nerve, Indrid Cold.” A kiss to the center of his stomach, “claimin' to know what I want.” This kiss falls on his ribs and he can’t help the “oh” that leaves him as Duck continues crawling up his body. 

“Especially since you ain’t said a single” a kiss to his chest, “goddamn” now to his shoulder, “thing” a final kiss on his neck and then Duck is gazing down at him, “about what you want.”

“W-what I want doesn’t matter right now.”

“Does to me.” The whisper is earnest, all traces of the strange flirtation gone. If nothing else, he owes Duck the truth.

“You.” He darts his head up for another kiss, finds Ducks lips welcoming and eager. They take on an upwards curve as he plants small pecks along them, before branching out to Ducks cheek. His hands are shyer, holding firmly to Ducks biceps as if they’re afraid of what the seer might do if he lets go. 

This is where he belongs, the warmth and weight of Ducks body on his, the puffs of breath against his skin when Duck huffs out an adoring laugh at the sounds he’s making. 

(Don’t look at the window)

Duck deepens the kiss, slips a hand around to Indrids back, the other gliding up and into his hair. He chances running a hand through the dark locks when they tickle his skin.

(Don’t look at the window).

This is better than every dream he’s had over the last few months, every idle imagining of what it would feel like to have Duck wrapped around him, breathing growing heavier by the second.

He looks at the window. There’s nothing there besides a field and some trees. It might not always be so. Something could be waiting there for Duck, breaking the glass, coming inside. 

“ _No_.” He curls his hands to his chest, squeezes his eyes shut, registers the loss of Ducks body heat “no, no you can’t want this. You can’t”

“Indrid?” He peeks up as Duck holds out a cautious hand from the end of the bed, where he’d moved as soon as the word “no” left Indrids mouth. Indrid sits up, takes the calloused fingers in his own.

“I’m not worth it.” He strokes his thumb along Ducks lifeline

“Accordin' to who?”

“Myself. I’m not a bad man Duck, by any means, but you are a far better one. You deserve to be with someone who isn’t so linked to disaster and danger.”

A warm hand rests on his cheek and he leans into the touch.

“Look at me, darlin'.”

Indrid meets his gaze, and its so patient and understanding he wants to crumble. 

“First off, think you’re lettin' your feelins color your vision their a bit. I ain’t any better than you, or any worse. Second, if you really don’t want to be anythin' more than friends, or not even that, I’ll abide by that choice. But before that, I want you to look me in the eye” he cups Indrids chin when his gaze skitters down, “and tell me what you want.”

“I want…” The blasted tears are back, and he's itching to avert his eyes but Duck holds his chin steady, “I want to be with you. To wake up beside you, to keep you company. To wander the world on your arm. And, oh goodness, I want to touch you, for you to have me whenever you please, to make you _scream_.” 

Duck gives a startled laugh, Indrid a sheepish one as he rests their foreheads together, “why do you let me get carried away like that when I talk?”

“Because I need to know how you feel, and all that was real fuckin' helpful.”

“But...it won’t be safe.”

“Indrid, the world ain’t safe. My life ain’t safe, hell, I spend most of it way up high. I just signed on with Mama and them, who the fuck knows what kinda danger that’s gonna put me in. Yeah, dyin' ain’t a fun thought. A worse one is knowin' you and I had a chance together and we didn’t take it.”

Indrid tilts his head back, lets the futures flow over him. They’re no worse than before, and his heart is begging him to make the right choice. 

“I must admit I can’t argue with that logic. Very well, I’m in if you are.”

Ducks face lights up. Indrid lets the tension go from his body, falls against Duck with a delighted laugh. For a moment Duck simply hugs him close, rubbing the last of his worries from his shoulders.

“I’m real glad to hear it. Because all that other, romantic, deep stuff aside,” he kisses Indrids jaw, “I want you real fuckin' bad.”

Indrid opens his mouth to reply, but a moan slips out instead. 

“You like it when I say that, darlin?” Ducks lips tease at his neck.

“Yes.” He rasps, somewhat perplexed by his reaction; Duck didn’t say anything filthy, or complementary. He just stated a fact. 

“I want you, Indrid. I’ve wanted you for fuckin' months.”

A whine rather than a moan this time, and he squirms with pleasure in the embrace. Duck offers a single kiss on the lips, underscored by a low chuckle, before easing them down onto the bed, 

“I want to know what makes you feel good.” He undoes the first two buttons on Indrids' shirt, barely gliding his fingers across his skin but Indrid arcs into the touch as if pulled by a magnet.

“Sensitive? Or has it been awhile?” Duck lazily trails a nail back and forth across his collarbone, bumps their noses together reassuringly when Indrid whimpers from the contact

“I can’t remember. At, at least a decade.” 

“Oh darlin', that’s far too long for you to go without someone treatin' you sweet.” The nail comes up to scritch the back of his neck, “Guess I know what I’m doin' now.” The shorter man sits up, makes quick work of the remaining buttons before starting on his own shirt. Dark hair and stray scars cover his body, and Indrid is already developing plans for how they can make use of his muscular arms. 

“Does that mean no biting?” 

“Did you like the bitin' last night?”

“Very much.”

Ducks lips quirk into a smile as he leans back down, dragging his tongue from Indrids stomach up to his chest, ending with a soft bite against his skin. It’s only the suggestion of teeth, but Indrid squeaks all the same. Wrapping his arms around Duck, he tilts his head back and the other man takes that as his cue to nip and kiss the expanse of his neck and shoulders (there’s a particularly apologetic kiss to the bruise from where Duck bit him the previous night).

“Don’t call ‘em lovebites for nothin. Now, where was I.” He mouths at Indrids skin as he pretends to think, “oh, right. I want to see how you look when you come, wanna see that fuckin' gorgeous smile as I fuck you. I wanna see every goddamn inch of you because you’re so incredible to look at.”

He’s making an “S” in bites down Indrid’s body as he talks, each one sending the seers hips up in little jolts. It’s not the pain, it’s the potential, the idea that Duck could bear down on him hard and aggressive but chooses gentleness instead. Not that he’s opposed to roughness, on the contrary he enjoys it, but the sweetness in Ducks touch has him uncomfortably hard in a matter of seconds. It’s still the words that have the greatest effect, his blood turning to sweet fire at the thought of Duck fantasizing about him. 

Duck reaches his belt, rests his chin on his navel to smirk at him, “think someone likes bein' told how good-lookin' he is.”

“That’s not that strange. Many people enjoy compliments”

“No, but most folks don’t get like this,” he palms Indrid through his trousers, making lighting shoot through his system, “from just a little sweet talkin'.”

The smirk widens, “I mean, mine is understandable” he grinds against Indrids calf, half-hard already and clearly pleased by the moan Indrid makes at that realization, “I got the finest man in the state in my bed.”

Indrid surrenders to his new found desires, tilts his hips, rubbing against Ducks hand, “Said man will do anything so like as long as you don’t stop talking that way.”

“You got a deal, handsome. Let’s see what we’re workin' with.” The pressure from his hand disappears, Indrid shutting his eyes with a groan and thrusting up after it.

Hands, strong and in-charge, pin his hips to the bed. He growls in frustration.

“Don’t worry, sweet thing, just need you to hold still long enough to get these off.” He releases his hips and undoes Indrids belt, pausing to kiss him before undoing the buttons and shifting his trousers down his thighs. 

“Perfect” a finger trails up and down the shaft of his cock in the same leisurely pattern Duck used on his collarbone, as if Indrid wasn’t scrabbling at the sheets in a desperate bid not to come then and there, “almost don’t know where to start. Hmmmm” A thumb swipes over the head, dragging pre-cum back down with a barely there touch.

“I didn’t take you for the type to enjoy tormenting peopleOH!” A tongue teases along the head far too briefly.

“Tormentin’s an awful strong word. Prefer to think of it as luxuriatin' at the fact that I got you goin' to pieces just from treatin' you soft. It's such an amazin feelin', think I might’ve died and gone to heaven.” Indrid moans half from pleasure and half from need and Duck growls, the sound sending a spike of desire through his chest. 

“ _Jesus_ , you oughta see yourself, blushin' like a fuckin' virgin, those muscles in that maddenin' frame of yours strainin' for me. Best thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I-is that all you’re planning to do? Just admire me?”

“If that’s what you want. I got a list a mile long of things I wanna do to you, but right now the only thing that matters is what’ll make you feel good.”

“It’s tempting” he murmurs, shutting his eyes and losing himself in the slow pleasure of Ducks strokes, “the thought of you simply doing this, telling me how I look until I make a mess of myself.” His eyes flicker open, his next words sticking on his tongue; Duck is settled between his legs like he belongs there, hand stilled as he waits for Indird to finish his thought. For every ounce of lust on his face there’s a double measure of affection. For a moment Indrid wonders if he means it; he’s gone to bed with many men who said they cared what he desired before demonstrating the opposite. 

It’s Ducks breathing that gives the answer. For all his stillness, his chest rises and falls rapidly, draws Indrids eyes to all the coiled tension in his form. He knows how strong Duck is; if he only cared about his desires, he’d already have pounced on him. 

Indrid smiles fondly when he speaks, “I do wish you to keep doing what you are, but I feel you’re a tad far away.”

Duck growls again, dives forward and tangles their bodies together, kissing Indrid, placing lovebites on his mouth, laughing when the seer gives as good as he gets and tugs at Ducks lower lip. He ruts his hips against Duck, feels the others cock hardening and his own delighting in the feel of fabric on his skin. 

“I got an idea.” Duck rolls them onto their sides, fumbles with his pants (mercifully his suspenders came off when he removed his shirt, so it doesn’t take too long). Once his cock is free, he uses his left hand to hold Indrid close, wraps his right around both their cocks. It doesn’t close all the way (it does not escape Indrids notice that Duck’s is quite thick) but there’s more than enough stimulation, the odd intimacy of the moment combining with the sound of Ducks urgent, gleeful groans to give Indrid a heady feeling.

“I’m not going to last very long, I’m afraid, oh gracious that pressure is lovely.”

“Don’t gotta apologize, darlin', ohfuck, just lemme hear how much you like it.”

Indrid kisses his neck, moaning as loud as he dares. There are other sounds, chirps and trills, fighting to escape his throat but now is not the time and they mingle together into a more human-sounding keen as Duck picks up his pace.

“That’s it, you’re doin' so good Indrid” fingers curl in his hair and Duck pulls his head back to look at him, grinning and panting, “wanna see what you look like, wanna see how pretty it is when you, fuck, come for me, oh _damn_.” He stops his hand when Indrid spills between them, the moan breaking into a whimper as Duck keeps up a stream of sweet words. 

“You alright?” He kisses just below Indrids ear.

“Extraordinary, if a bit sticky.”

“Know what you mean.” Duck lifts the hand from between them, moves to wipe it on the edge of the blanket. 

Indrid can’t say where the urge comes from, only that he reaches out and grabs Ducks wrist, “No, no, allow me. It’s my mess, after all.” The seer watches with a grin as Ducks pupils blow wide when he brings the hand to his lips. He flicks his tongue along the edge of the thumb before drawing the first finger into his mouth. 

“Jesus fuck, now that’s a sight.” 

Indrid hums, pleased, as he moves his tongue in small licks, sucking occasionally. It’s a bitter taste, always is, but for some reason today it’s very appealing. Possibly that has to do with the reaction this is getting from Duck.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, fuck, sorry bad choice of words, it’s, oh god, fuck darlin' you’re so good, cleanin me up like the sweet, well-behaved thing you are, FUCKfuck.” He hisses, drops his head to Indrids shoulder when Indrids' hand finds his cock and set a relentless pace.

Indrids' purr at the reaction is cut off by an “Mmph” as Duck shoves two more fingers between his lips. He moans around them, sucking hard and adding twists to his upstrokes. His foresight tells him to release his hold when there’s a strangled whimper. He does so at the same moment Duck pulls his fingers back and tugs him into a kiss, coming between them. It’s not until well after he’s finished that they finally break apart. 

Duck shifts onto his back, Indrid resting his head beneath his chin in what is rapidly becoming his favorite position to be in. 

“Didn’t, uh, didn’t expect you to like my talkin' so much.”

“I must admit it was a bit of a surprise.”

“Can you have those?”

“Sometimes, especially when I’m very focused on the present. Something about the way you talk to me, saying I’m good it, it does me in.”

“Guess I’ll have to do it a whole lot then.” Finger causally card through his hair and he sighs. 

“Are there things I can do to make you feel that way?”

“Plenty. Can show you some of them later, if you want.” A mischievous kiss finds the top of his head. 

“I look forward to it.”

Duck hesitates in his next words and Indrid can guess why from looking ahead; the other man is still a touch nervous that Indrid doesn’t want to go out with him as they did before.

“You should ask what you’re going to ask.”

“Okay _that_ might take some gettin' used to. Since we got the rest of the day to ourselves, was wonderin' if you’d like to go for dinner later, maybe walk by the river afterwards?”

Indrid shifts so that he can look up at Duck and see the expression on his face when he replies, “nothing would make me happier.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Praise kink? In my fic? It's more likely than you think.
> 
> Next up: Halloween, plus some familiar and possibly unwanted faces.


	8. So Far It Was Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lodge celebrates Halloween in a variety of ways.

“I swear, if any of the young fellas in town try to pull a prank on the lodge, I’m sendin' you after them in your Sylph form.” Mama finishes setting out the garlands and candles.

“If the dignity of the lodge was at stake, I’d do it.” Barclay tosses over his shoulder, putting out plates on a long table. Indrid steals a cider doughnut from one of them and Barclay gives him a look.

“Speaking of Sylph forms, have you told Duck about yours yet?”

He shakes his head, mouth full of cinnamon and sugar.

“You’re going to have to eventually. Don’t want him having to deal with that shock in the middle of a fight.” He lays out a tray of toffee cake, menaces Indrid with the spoon he’s holding when he eyes it.

“I suppose it’s best not to keep secrets. That's why you've told Agent Stern you're Bigfoot, isn't it?” He grins sweetly. Barclay huffs.

“Duck ain’t huntin' you the way Stern's huntin' him.” Mama starts building a fire. Indrid bites his lip; she has him there.

“If you’re nervous about what he’ll say, why not look at the futures?” Barclay holds out another doughnut as a peace offering.

“I tried, but because I can’t bring myself to consider that option, there are no futures where it happens. Ah, well” he shrugs, “ I won’t worry about it tonight. This is my favorite human celebration and I wish to enjoy it.”

“Think you and every other Sylph like Halloween best.” Mama holds a match to the fire.

“I like Christmas” Barclay murmurs, misses the fond look Mama shoots his way.

“I wish the romance elements we’re not falling by the wayside. I rather liked them”

“You ever see Ducks face durin’ one of those games where you're supposed to see your true love?” Barclay teases.

Indrid thinks, then blushes, “well, maybe once or twice…”

He helps Barclay set out more food and drinks, though he bows out to help Dani with the final decorating when Stern appears so he can assist Barclay instead. 

Soon the lodge is bustling, the festivities well under way. He finds a spot by the fire, watches in amusement as his friends attempt apple bobbing (Dani lets her sharp teeth help her out, Aubrey misses every time, and Jake can keep his head underwater for a very long while during the hunt). Agent Stern stays close to Barclay, helping him refill plates and stealing the odd kiss, but takes time to sit and chat amicably with Aubrey and Dani. He gives Indrid a friendly nod, raising his glass in cheers. 

There are two people still missing: Ned and Duck. They went out earlier to chase down a small abomination and while all Indrids visions show them returning soon, he still fidgets with a loose thread on his coat, worried. Aubrey spots the furrowed brows, plops down next to him and shows him Dr.Harris Bonkers, who is trying to gnaw off his Halloween costume. He laughs, holds the disgruntled creature in his lap as Aubrey describes her new act. By the time she’s done, Duck is two minutes away from coming in the back door. 

Which means it’s time for Indrid to excuse himself and head up to his room

\--------------------------------------

“....Anyway the damn thing dragged me a half mile though the mud but went down pretty easy after that.”

Indrid blinks at him, clearly torn between concern and amusement at the coat of mud covering Duck.

“I’m glad it wasn’t terribly aggressive. Are you hurt at all?”

“Sore, but mostly just look like hell. Inexplicable toughness has its benefits.” The mud is hardening on his face and he crinkles his nose in discomfort. 

“How about I draw you a bath? Unless you’re planning on telling everyone downstairs that this is a costume.”

Duck smirks at him, “you just want to see me naked.”

“Yes, but you can hardly fault me for it.” With a wink he heads into the washroom, Duck pulling off his filthy clothes and putting them in a corner before sauntering in behind him. He takes his time getting into the tub, wanting to give Indrid ample opportunity to appreciate the view. The seer pretends not to notice, an act that is undercut by him looking over his shoulder every two seconds as he hunts for soap.

The water is just right, uncoiling the knots in his legs and arms. Indrid kneels down on the floor beside the tub, and Duck assumes he’s there to hand him the soap and a washcloth.

Wrong.

Indrid lifts Ducks hand from the edge of the tub, dips the cloth into the water and begins gently scrubbing his arm, humming as he does. 

“Mighty fine service at this hotel.”

“Hush.” Indrid flicks water at him, moves up his arm and onto his chest, “if you think I’m doing this for anyone else in this place, you’re sorely mistaken. Also, I do not technically work here”

“That so” Duck leans back, eyes shut, as the cloths rubs circles on his chest and shoulders, “all I’m gonna say is that it ain’t a bad image, the idea of you on your knees offerin' some hospitality.”

“Show you hospitality” Indrid grumbles, playfully, before biting Ducks ear and switching to the other side of the tub. Hands him a second cloth to wash his face while he lifts his arm, kissing his wrist in the one spot not covered in mud. Then he pauses, tilts his head, and fixes Duck with a devious grin. 

“Is that what does it for you, my sweet? Imagining me on my knees, opening my mouth to anyone that asks?”

Duck shudders, his cock stirring beneath the water.

“Or…” Indrid finishes with his arm, taps the rim of the tub to signal Duck should lift his heel onto it, “is it the idea that I _could_ choose that, but instead you have me all to yourself?”

“Uh, both, um, that is,” Indrids hand is perilously far up his thigh, “I like the idea of you submittin' to things, but I really, really like the idea of you submittin' to me in particular. That make sense?”

“Indeed. Other leg please.” Indrid continues scrubbing and soaping, but his hands work mechanically, his eyes remaining fixed on Duck with that same smile spreading on his lips. Duck presses the washcloth to his face for a moment; Indrid is winding him up, seems to be taking the lead on whatever it is he has planned. Duck is happy to let him do so, but if he keeps grinning like that he’s going to snap and fuck him over the edge of the tub.

The first glide of fingers over his cock is so light it could almost be accidental. Almost. He gasps all the same, hips jerking in surprise. Then a single finger drags back and forth as the rest of the hand washes his lower belly. 

“Indrid? He smiles into the question, slips the cloth from his eyes, starting when he finds Indrid now by his shoulder rather than his feet.

“Yes, Duck?”

“Seems like you got other things on your mind besides given me a nice rubdown.”

“Why, whatever do you mean?” A hand closes on his cock and he groans. He needs to get his hands on Indrid now, needs to feel that lanky frame trembling under his touch.

“Hand me a towel.”

“You’re still muddy in places, be patient.” Good lord his grin is wide, lending his face an air of otherworldly appeal. 

Duck growls, splashes him, making the seer splutter and then glare at him over his glasses. The grip on his cock loosens as Indrid scrubs the back of his neck. He chases the sensation, thrusting into the fist. After an eternity Indrid tosses the cloth aside, pulls the towel from where he set it on the sink. For a beat he picks up his pace, Duck throwing his head back with a delighted moan. 

Then all touch disappears, and instead of the seer by the tub there’s only the towel. Indrid is in the doorway, vibrating with barely contained laughter. 

“Why you low down, dirty-” He means to sound dominant, but it comes out as indignant and flustered, the tone breaking Indrids composure. A sharp, trilling laugh fills the room as the white-haired man disappears from view.

Water splashes onto the floor, soaking the boards as Duck hurriedly dries himself. By the time he stalks into the bedroom, Indrid’s bare from the waist up. He’s still giggling. 

“Look awful pleased with yourself there, darlin'.” Duck grabs his belt loops, yanking him so their flush chest to chest. 

“It’s not my fault you look rather charming when teased.” Indrid nuzzles his cheek. 

Laughter erupts from nearby, the Halloween celebration in full swing. 

Duck laughs darkly, kisses Indrids neck, “You picked a real good time to tease me. Cause they’re raisin such a racket, ain’t no one gonna hear the sounds I’m about to drag out of you.”

Indrid makes one of those chirring noises, the happy, anticipatory ones that are already one of the sounds Duck loves most in the world. 

“Get the rest of this off.” He slaps Indrid once, softly, on the ass to underscore the point. Indrid wrestles with his pants as Duck makes the short journey to the bed, laying back, cock unashamedly hard. 

With a final curse Indrid removes his pants and tosses them aside (and out the window, but neither of them notice until much later, when an amused Barclay returns them). Duck beckons him closer, enjoying how Indrids eyes keep drifting down to his cock. He spreads his legs so Indrid can settle between them.

“What would you have me do, my sweet?”

“Can’t you tell with those powers of yours?”

Indrid blushes, “Yes, well, technically but I want…” 

“You wanna hear me say it?” Duck offers, gently.

“Please.”

“I’m gonna fuck you. Uh, assumin' that’s okay.” He sits up, taking Indrids hands and pulling them against his chest. Rubs them soothingly, brings them to his lips for a kiss. It’s the first time he’s asked Indrid to do this, and he needs to show him that there’s not an ounce of pressure. If he doesn't want it, they don't have to do it. 

“I’d like nothing better.” He’s beaming.

Duck knows where the condoms and tin of lubricant live, and so he pulls them from the bedside table. 

“How would you like me?” Indrid sits back on his heels, fingers drumming his knees.

“Oughta get you warmed up a bit first” he racks his brain, sorting through the library of filthy ideas he’s amassed over the last few months. Indrid is still reveling in the simplest touches and closeness, and so Duck decides to continue in that vein. They’ll be time for burying Indrids face in the mattress, for tying him up and using him until he screams, later. 

“C’mere, put your back against me.” He opens his legs and arms so Indrid can rest against him, nudges the supplies towards him with his foot. Indrid gets out a condom, slicks up his finger.

“You know,” he murmurs, tilting his head back so he and Duck are cheek to cheek, “there were many futures where you had your way with me against the door.” His back arches as he starts fingering himself. 

“Would you like that?”

“Yes, oh,” he sighs when Duck traces his thumb along his neck, the skin cool beneath it. 

“Another time, darlin'. Tonight I want you as close as I can get you, gonna treat you sweeter than honey.”

Shoulder blades dig into his chest as Indrid hisses from adding a second finger. As he works himself open, Duck trails feather-light kisses along his shoulders. 

“Doin real good, darlin', gettin ready to take my cock. Makin' all those pretty sounds.”

“Duck.” It’s a breathy groan and Indrid tenses, clearly working in a third finger.

Duck wraps both arms around him, runs his hands up and down his chest, “easy, sweet thing, don’t rush none on my account.”

“I’m not, I’m, oh goodness, rushing on _my_ account. I need you, now.” He pulls his hand away with a gasp, tossing the condom aside (luckily this does not go out the window) as he turns to face Duck. In response, Duck straightens so he’s sitting up with his back to the wall rather than lounging half-reclined on the pillows. 

“Sit in my lap.” 

As Indrid straddles him, he leans in for a kiss. Indrid returns the kiss so eagerly that Ducks head bonks into the wall. 

“Sorry” Indrid mumbles against his lips. 

Duck laughs, “Don’t hurt none.” Rests his hands on bony hips as Indrid positions himself. Their relative heights mean the seer is looking down at him, giving Duck a rare glance of his dark eyes. 

“Ready whenever you areAH, oh _jesus_ Indrid.” His head hits the wall again as the other man sinks down on him in one go.

“I told you, I need you now.”

“You got me, sweet christ do you got me” he pants, digging his fingers into chilly skin as Indrid rocks his hips. 

“I rather think, oh, ahyes, that we have each other.” Indrid smiles at him, so open and loving that Duck curls his hands into that white, pulling him into a kiss. It’s deep and unhurried, a counterpoint to the rhythm Indrid sets, grinding fast and firm. 

There’s a thwack as Indrids palms find the wood of the wall, and suddenly he scratches at it with a yell. 

“Gahh, oh, oh now I see what all the fuss is about that spot, oh Duck, sweetheart, fuck me, please.”

Duck grips his hips once more, thrusts up as roughly as he can. Indrid moans, pressing their foreheads together, one hand steady on the wall and the other scratching Ducks chest. 

“Gettin fighty on me now, darlin'?” He gives his voice that same dark laugh, and Indrid whimpers. 

“O-only if you like it, I won’t if you don’tOH” Duck sinks his teeth into Indrids neck, at the spot he’s learned Indrid likes being bitten the most. Releases the skin put keeps his mouth on it, licking and sucking. Then he grunts as Indrid changes pace, bouncing on his cock with a hand braced on either shoulder.

“Yes _yesyes_ ” He chirps in time with his movements, cries out when Duck hugs him close by his lower back, forcing his cock to slide between their stomachs. Had he been made to guess, he’d have said the idea of someone rubbing off on his ample stomach would hold no appeal. But as Indrids hips jerk frantically between them, streaking pre-cum against his skin and hair, he can’t think of anything he likes better.

Indrid freezes halfway up his cock, a chirping moan tearing from his throat as he comes across their bellies, head tipped back, giving Duck plenty of spots to bite in rapid succession as he rides out his orgasm. 

When Indrid has stopped shaking, Duck throws himself forward, pinning Indrid beneath him with sound between a whimper and a laugh. He fucks him hard, his own grunts and moans obscene in his ears. Indrid loops his arms lightly around Ducks neck, smiling exhaustedly on the shaking mattress. 

“Fuck, darlin', can’t believe how good you look, can’t believe how hot and tight you are, chirst, love watchin' my cock split you open, yeah, fuck yes.” Indrid lifts his head just enough to kiss him and Duck comes, a purr tingling his lips as Indrid keeps him close. 

They keep kissing as he softens, don’t stop as he pulls out, and only surrender to the need to do something else when Indrid mutters that they both need a bath now. 

Duck gazes down at him, knowing he’s right (and that they both actually want to spend more time at the party). But Indrid is right there, and as sappy as it sounds that’s all Duck needs. 

“Little more kissin' first?”

Indrid smiles indulgently, rolling to his arms for more. 

\-----------------------------------------------------

By the time they get downstairs, the lodge is full of residents, townsfolk, and a few visitors. The wind howls outside, sets the trees thrashing in the dark. Inside the fire is bright and warm, the smell of cinnamon and beeswax and apple flitting through the air. 

Duck stands at the bar with Ned, sipping hot cider (with a whiskey chaser) Indrid alternating between holding his hand and wandering off to talk with Dani, Aubrey, and Jake. He’s just now drifted back, though that may have something to do with the pie Barclay set out (the only one who likes them better than Indrid is Stern). 

“I must say, it’s a fittingly intimidating and malevolent night. Makes one glad to be safe and sound indoors.” Ned proclaims, refilling his glass. 

“Agreed. After our good nights work, ain’t gotta worry about anythin bad gettin in here.” They clink their glasses together.

The door blows open, and a dark figure steps inside. A man, rough looking and noticeably strong, lifts his head to regard the merrymakers. The door slams shut in his wake. Beside Duck, Ned is stiller than stone. 

“Evenin ladies and gents” he removes his hat with am insincere bow. British, judging by his accent.

“Evening” Barclay steps around the bar, wary, “you looking for a place to stay?”

“I’m lookin to take part in the festivities, seems a fittin way to begin my time here. You see, I’m here because you all have a monster problem. The kind folks are willing to pay money to solve. So I’ve come to solve it.”

In the corner, Sterns lips set in a tight line. Duck takes Indrids hand; it’s shaking. 

“Allow me to introduce myself: The names Mosche. Boyd Mosche” he aims a ragged grin towards Duck and Ned, “and I’m a bounty hunter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historical note: Halloween used to have many romantic traditions/superstitions, and this story is set right as those began to fall out of popularity. 
> 
> Next up: Duck makes a request.


	9. Something Wasn't Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Between the bounty hunter, the new abomination, and another attack, Duck's hands are getting full.

November 9th brings the first snowfall. 

In Ducks experience, this means they have about a month and a half before the snow closes the town off from the world. Those who are cautious about being trapped are already leaving; the more daring will stay put until December. 

And Duck?

He, like all his friends, like the residents of the lodge, and like many of the long time citizens of Kepler, will hunker down and wait for spring.

While he’s careful in his planning, knowing better than to underestimate the natural world, he’s looking forward to this winter. Because he’ll have someone to curl up with, to keep warm under the covers on nights when the trees groan from the weight of the snow and it seems as though warm days will never come. Indrid, his Indrid, who is currently sitting on a bench in defiance of the cold. Many feet up, Duck is performing some routine checks on the trees in this corner of the park. Even as he draws, Indrid looks nervous. Duck can’t blame him, they’ve all been on edge the past week. Ever since-

_“I warned them this is what would happen.” Stern glowers at Boyd, who is busy lounging on a couch like he owns the place, grabbing an apple from the bobbing tub and biting it._

_“Told who?” Barclay worries the bracelet on his wrist._

_“My superiors. They were satisfied with my progress but, well, as I said some of those who disappeared around Kepler came from powerful families. They made demands for faster results. When they suggested a reward I protested, tried to explain that it would only cause more trouble, attract people who cared only for money and not for the truth or the safety of the town. And if this” he jerks his head at the newcomer, “is anything to go by, I was right.” He departs towards his room with a huff, though he pauses to squeeze Barclays hand reassuringly._

_Aubrey keeps an eye on Boyd as she joins them, “We should tell Mama, right? Make up a plan to keep this guy away from the lodge?”_

_“Agreed.” Reply three voices. Wait, there should be four. Where the hell is Ned? Duck scans the room for his friend, but he’s vanished._

Duck slots a tool back into his belt, shakes snow from his hat. Worryingly, it seems as though Boyds attention has settled on Ned. Duck, from his vantage point in the trees, spied the bounty hunter leaving the Cryptonomica several times over the past week. 

Duck and Ned have been friends for years, and now they trust each other with their lives. But Ned Chicane has many middle names, and “brave” or “self-sacrificing” are not among them. Sure, he’s courageous when he’s got Duck and the others to help him fight. Yet all it might take is the bounty hunter threatening (not offering or bribing, Ned wouldn’t sell them out in such a way) the right thing for Ned to give Barclay, and the lodge, away.

When Duck had pulled Ned aside to check on him, his friend dodged his questions with practiced ease. 

“My friend, he’s simply taken an interest in some of the things at the Cryptonomica, believing they will help with his hunt.”

“Hate to contradict you, Ned, but he seems awful mad whenever he leaves.”

“Well, uh, you know how temperamental our friends across the Atlantic are.”

Every conversation has been like that. Duck may not always be the first to spot what’s going on, but he sure as hell knows when someone’s just snuck out the back door of the museum when he comes in the front. 

He starts climbing down, finds Indrid waiting for him with chattering teeth.

“D-done?”

“Yep. Y’know, you didn't have to stay out here with me. Don’t want you catchin' your death.”

“I know, it-ts just that I like being n-near you.” 

Duck pulls him close and they huddle together on the journey back to the house. By the time they make it inside Indrid is shaking all over. Duck gets the fire going as Indrid drags a pile of blankets in front of it and burrows into them. He joins him shortly after, giggling when Indrid immediately gloms onto him with a happy sigh. 

“I appreciate it, y’know?”

“What, my sweet?”

“You lookin out for me, even when you’re freezin. I know that’s what you’re doin.”

“Oh.” Indrid snuggles closer sheepishly

“You ain’t subtle, sweet thing.”

“Is there something I should do instead?”

Duck shifts so their face to face, “whatever you want. Could stay here, could be at the lodge, hell could help Aubrey with her act or Barclay in the kitchen. Ain’t gotta be by my side all the time for me to know you love me.”

Indrid pulls back, startled.

“You said it.”

“That I love you?”

“It was the least likely future.”

“That’s funny, because I’m real fuckin' in love with you.”

Indrid blinks at him, “I love you too.” He says it the way someone else would share news they want to celebrate and Duck pulls him into a soft kiss. It’s true and somehow _right_ , the way things always are with Indrid. 

As the kiss intensifies, he slips a hand beneath several layers of shirt, reaching cold skin and making Indrid gasp.

“That’s lovely. You know, if it weren’t so cold, I’d lay myself out so you could spend all evening with your hands on my skin.”

“I can do you one better. Get on your back on the blankets for me.”

Indrid obeys and Duck scoots between his legs, working his belt off and zipper down.

“Duck, if you think I am removing any layers right now-”

“Not a chance.” Duck strokes a finger along the outline of Indrids cock in his underwear, “was thinkin' I could give you a thank you for bein' so good and stayin out with me in the cold.”

Indrid lets out a little moan.

“Only part of you that’s gotta feel the chill is this” he pushes down harder on the next drag of his finger, “and that won’t be for too long, because I want the whole fuckin thing in my mouth.”

“Yes, _yes_ , oh love please. OH-” He sits up on his elbows, eyes wide behind red lenses, “oh are you really going to offer what you’re about to offer?”

“Depends.” Duck reaches up, pushes Indrid back with a tap of a finger to his chest, “was about to say I want you to fuck my mouth.”

“Y-you mean” Indrid says to the ceiling.

“Hard, soft, fast, slow, whatever the fuck you wanna do you can. If it’s too much I’ll do this” he taps Indrids thigh twice with his pointer and middle fingers, “so you know to stop.” He eases Indrids cock out, teasing the head with his lips. Indrid’s already panting and whimpering, hands hovering on either side of Ducks head. Both hands busy toying with Indrids cock, Duck bumps his head against one palm. Indrid gets the message, curls his fingers into Ducks hair. 

Slowly, he works his way down his cock, dragging his tongue along the underside, stopping his progress every few seconds to suck. The head doesn’t quite reach the back of his throat when his nose comes to rest against Indrids skin. Beneath his hands, Indrids thighs are trembling. He pulls his head leisurely back up, finds Indrid sitting up slightly again to watch him.

“Gonna make me do all the work, handsome? Not like I’d complain.” He winks at him.

Indrid smiles, running his fingers along his scalp, “oh no, my sweet.” 

The grin sharpens, the fingers abruptly tighten.

“I just wanted to be sure you could take it all.”

His lips ache as Indrid shoves him roughly back down, holding his head in place as he frantically tries to get his breathing under order. 

“Mmmmmm, oh I could get used to this.” He wriggles his hips, cock slipping back and forth in Ducks mouth. 

“You’re always so, nnhn, good to me Duck. But when we fuck, I can’t help thinking you’re keeping certain ideas to yourself.” He yanks Duck halfway up before pulling him back down, thrusting his hips at the same time, “Almost as if you’re afraid your deeper desires will chase me away.” 

He looks up at Indrid, even though his face is hidden from view. How can he possibly know that? 

Indrid jerks his head up and down only an inch or two, hissing with pleasure, “I assure you, oh goodness, you’ve nothing to fear from sharing them with me. Mainly because I love you, so very, very much.” One hand leaves his hair to draw a line along his cheek, caress his brow even as he writhes, whining when Indrid freezes his head in place.

“The other reason is that I am just as eager for roughness and depravity as you are, as I’m about to demonstrate.”

Duck doesn’t get to parse the full implications of that sentence, because Indrid is mercilessly fucking his face, yanking him up so hard he feels hairs come loose and then thrusting into his mouth when he forces him down. Spit is starting to seep from the edge of his mouth as he relaxes his jaw, savors the taste of salty skin and pre-cum on his lips with every slide of Indrids cock. 

“Now, gracious, my sweet, I want you to get some relief from this as well. But do keep your hands where I can see them.” A pat on his head and his system floods with delicious shame; Indrid wants him to rut against the blankets, won't even offer him the luxury of touching himself. 

He moans, grinds his hips down, his clothes and bedding offering the kind of friction that sends him to the edge far too soon. Indrid laughs every time Duck whimpers.

“There we are, that might be awkward but I'm sure you can manage. After all, I need your hands here.” Indrids hands find his own, pelvis bumping his nose as the man continues thrusting between his lips. He brings one of Ducks hands to palm at his balls as the other glides up his chest to his nipples. 

Duck is stretched in all directions, each one devoted to pleasing Indrid, and the thought makes him moan wanton and loud. Indrid purrs, redoubles his thrusts, moves Ducks head so forcefully his vision begins to blur.

“I’m going to, ah, yes, come soon, and when I do, you are to swallow every. Single. Drop. If you fail to do so, I will do this again, and again, as many times as is necessary for you to do it properly”

Duck gasps as his orgasm hits him, Indrids threats the push he needed. It’s through sheer force of will that he closes his lips in time for Indrid to arch off the floor, pulsing in his mouth. He swallows fast and greedy, desperate to do as Indrid said. Keeps sucking until Indrid nudges his chin up and off. The seer eases them both up, flicks his gaze to his lap and then smiles at Duck.

“Perfectly done.” He leans in, kissing Duck sweetly.

“I uh, uh,” It would be wonderful if his brain started working again, “I ain’t ever had anyone talk to me like before.”

Indrid’s brow knits in concern “Was it alright?”

In place of an answer Duck moans, satisfied, and hugs Indrid close while nodding. Indrid chirrs contentedly, nuzzles the crook of his neck.

“I believe we’ve discovered a whole new vein of pleasures to explore.”

“You got that right, darlin'. Can’t fuckin' wait.”

Butterfly kisses on his jaw.

“Me neither.”

\-----------------------------------

Duck is having a strange day. 

It began with Ned dropping off a package in the early morning.

“I’ve had this in the shop for awhile. I think it’s meant for you.” 

Ned’s using maybe half as many words as normal but leaves before Duck can comment.

Indrid peers out of the blankets as Duck unwraps the parcel. The paper falls away and there’s a cascade of silver; a sword, strangely flexible and weighted just right in his hand.

“This is incredible.”

“You’re not going to feel that way for long.”

Duck turns the hilt over, revealing a carved shape of a mouth.

“Duck Neeeewton, at last you see fit to use me. I am Beacon.” The creaky voice fills the house, setting Ducks teeth on edge and Indrids hackles up.

He stares at the weapon, then at Indrid who is now burying his head under a pillow. 

“Weeeell, are you planing to wield me or simply gawp like a fish.”

“I hate it.”

“Me too.” Comes the muffled reply.

After figuring out that he could wear Beacon as a belt (which kept him quiet), Duck set off for work. Indrid pointed out that while the voice was the stuff of nightmares, at least Duck had extra protection now. 

He's halfway through his workday when a commotion erupts across the street from city hall. From the yellow and black jackets, he can tell it’s the Hornets. They’re rodeo riders who use Kepler as their home base.

“What’s the trouble?” He looks up at the leader, Hollis, still on their horse. Their composure is hanging by a thread.

“We got attacked on the road about a mile out of town. Keith, get Alice and Mike to the doctor, I’ll” They look at two bodies, laying limp and lifeless across a horse, “I’ll figure out what to do with them.”

“Jesus, Hollis, I’m real sorry. I’ll help you get ‘em to the morgue. What attacked y’all?”

“No fucking clue, but Keith said there were two monsters. Some kind of fucking bear, maybe, and something big that flew off before I could get a look at it.”

“Allow me to assist you as well.” An accented voice purrs from behind Duck, who jumps. 

“Who the hell are you?” Hollis glares. 

“Boyd Mosche, concerned citizen.”

“And bounty hunter.” Duck crosses his arms. 

“Come now, Mr. Newton, don’t sound so cross. Don’t you want to see the town rid of monsters?”

“You been stirrin up a lot of trouble, and Hollis don’t need any more of that.”

The head Hornet hops down, begins leading their horse and the one bearing the dead riders away, “Duck’s right, I don’t. Thanks for the offer, both of you, but I’m just gonna do this myself.”

“Ah, well.” Boyd sighs as they watch them go, “It doesn’t matter all that much. I have the clues I need already. Afternoon.”

When he arrives home, there’s a note waiting for him.

_Duck,_

_Have some business to attend to today. Will likely not be back until the evening. Mama is going to come around six for a hunt, so be sure to be ready._

_Love,_

_Indrid._

Right on schedule, there’s a knock on the door. Mama’s waiting when he opens it, Ned, Aubrey, and Barclay in the snow behind her. 

“Grab your rifle and your, uh, sword. We got a live one.”  
\-------------------------------------------------

Snow crunches under foot as Duck follows the moonlit path through the trees. Behind him, Aubrey keeps a small fire in her hand so she and Ned don’t trip over any more roots. Barclay and Mama are following a second path on the other side of this stand of woods, so that no matter which way the beast goes, it’s likely to run into the Pine Guard. 

“Any sign of it Duck?” Aubrey whispers.

“Not a damn thing. Can't hear nothin' either over our footsteps. Everybody just freeze for a second.”

They do. Wind whistles, leaves rustle, a few brave birds call. 

A scream bursts through the trees. 

They run, Duck pulling far ahead do the other two. This all feels too familiar, and he’s terrified that he’ll once again find Indrid crumpled on the ground.

The scream dies into a gurgle just as he hits a clearing and stops dead.

Ten feet away a body lays on the ground. Its not Indrid, thank god.

It’s the bounty hunter. 

Beside him, one clawed hand on his chest, is the monster; glowing red eyes, four arms, black wings. 

For a moment they stare at each other, snow falling between them.

The creature extends one clawed hand, makes a noise that could be, “wait.”

And then Duck lifts his rifle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: ?
> 
> I'm pausing this fic for a few days to make sure the second part is plotted out right. In the interim I'll be posting a hot yoga one-shot


	10. Don't Murder Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duck takes flight and brings Indrid down to Earth.

Even with the creature firmly in his sights, Duck hesitates. Something about the look in it’s eyes, the tilt of its head, is familiar. 

In that split second, it takes to the sky, disappearing into the snow-filled darkness of the woods. He fires a shot in the opposite direction in order to summon Barclay and Mama. 

“Shit” He sighs just as Ned and Aubrey finally catch up to him. Aubrey pauses to say something but Ned barrels past both of them and drops beside the prone bounty hunter. 

“Boyd, Boyd!” He shakes the man, the gesture increasingly frantic as he gets no response. 

“Ned, that ain’t gonna help, we need to get him into town. Although…” He looks at the blood seeping into the snow; there’s a lot. Ned follows his gaze, yanks off his scarf and starts staunching the bleeding.

“Here, let me try something.” Aubrey kneels next to Ned, holds her hands above the wound. She shuts her eyes, breathes deeply. Duck keeps scanning the trees; that monster is still out there, after all. 

He whirls when the snow crunches, relaxes when Mama and Barclay step into the clearing. 

“What the hell was he doin' out here?” 

“From the looks of it” Barclay carefully pokes at a nearby bush with the end of his axe, wrinkles his nose in distaste “setting traps.”

“Damn fool. Gonna take more than that to take an abomination down. Ned, thought you said you talked to him.”

“I-I did, and I convinced him that pursuing this line of problem solving was, well, was-”

“Ned” 

“He wouldn’t listen! And because you wouldn’t let me reveal the extent of what we do in the Pine Guard, I couldn’t convince him!”

“Ned ‘Bullshit’ Chicane couldn’t convince a fella not to go into the woods alone in the dead of night? I don’t buy that for a fuckin minute.” 

“You don’t know what he’s like!” Ned shouts, jogging Aubrey from her trance. 

“Trying to heal here, less yelling would be good!”

“Uh, don’t mean to add to the panic here, but that flyin critter looked real mean and I ain’t sure it won't try comin back. Maybe we oughta move.”

“Flying?” Barclay looks worried, “you sure?”

“Never been surer.”

“We might have more time than we think then.” Barclay muses before bending to help Ned, who is struggling to lift Boyd off the ground.

Branches thwip and crack, and they all brace for the worst until Indrid stumbles into their midst. 

“It’s on it’s way” the words come in gasps, “we need to move, now, we need to run. Things get bad if we stay, very bad.”

“Know better than to argue when you say that. Let’s get the hell outta here.” Mama turns towards the lodge, Barclay swinging Boyd over his shoulder and taking off after her. Duck waves for Ned, Aubrey, and Indrid to go ahead of him. 

It’s at the final treeline before town that it first reaches them; a roar, horrible and clear in the night air. 

“RUNNING FASTER WOULD BE BEST!” Indrid yells, the cracking and crashing of something through the underbrush growing closer, "I don't mean to alarm anyone but there are very few futures where we make it in time!"

Duck stops, turns, lifting his rifle to aim behind them. The others need a little more time to reach safety. He can buy them that. 

“Duck!” The panic in Indrid’s voice is buried under the oncoming roar.

Duck cocks the gun.

Then everything goes black. 

He’s untethered, floating, but the chill seeping into his bones tells him he must still be awake. Something dark and woolly covers his eyes, but when he goes to claw it off his hands are trapped. No matter how he twists and turns he can’t get free, finds with horror that something is encircling his waist as well. 

Desperate, he jerks his whole body to the left and the world drops and spins and that’s when he understands that he’s flying. Or, rather, that he’s being carried. 

It got him, the abomination got him and now it’s carrying him to god knows where. 

He thinks about his friends who may still need him, about his home, about the forest. He thinks about Indrid, about all the things they’ve yet to do together. 

His knees curl up towards his chest, then with all his strength he kicks in the direction of the creature. There’s a shriek, and he’s tumbling so fast he’s almost sick. The monster hits the snow first, Duck landing on top of it. Pushing a wing off of himself he scrambles to his feet, a piece of dark cloth dropping from where it must have been thrown around his eyes. 

It’s dark, he’s disoriented, and worst of all the abomination is standing up. Glowing red eyes scan the snow, one hand of four clutches its head. He’s behind it, it can’t see him yet, and in the flurry of white he spies his salvation, leaning against a shed. 

Just as the monster opens it mouth and says, “it’s alright,” he catches it on the head with the end of the shovel, frozen handle biting into his hand.

\-----------------------------------------------------------

Indrid’s head rings, and his eyes fight to stay closed. It’s cold, so cold, but when he tries gathering his wings about him as a buffer, they don’t budge. 

Rope, someone’s tied his wings and limbs and he’s cold, he’s _freezing_ , how long has been laying here on the ground, snow blanketing his feathers? He needs to get up, they’re all still in danger, and it hurts, the temperature might kill him before he can stop the abomination. 

Instinct kicks in and he panics, thrashing and screeching and his wings burst free. Then they’re pinned and someone is speaking,

“None of that, now. You ain’t flyin off on me again.”

Duck. Of course, he’d saved him, flown off with him. Duck had been frightened, yes that’s right and he’d, and he’d…

Oh no. 

The seer forces his eyes open. 

Duck is sitting on his chest, scowling. There’s a lantern nearby, and the human has clearly added layers of clothing since the fight. 

“Got your bearin’s wrong, friend. You tried carryin me off, dropped us right back at my house instead.”

Right, the house, the shovel must’ve been leaning against the wood shed.

Ducks hands dig into his wings, not painful but getting there, as he growls, “There better be a damn good reason why you grabbed me, and why you been pickin off folks left and right.”

Indrid tries to speak, but the cold and his own panic make it difficult. He manages to open his mandibles.

“And don’t even think about bitin me; know I’m down close but you won’t like where it gets you.”

Goodness, he didn’t know Ducks voice could sound like that. Were he not freezing to death, he’d tell him how much he liked it.

Fighting will only frighten Duck more, and Indrid doesn’t care to risk hurting him in a struggle to get away. So he does what comes naturally where Duck is concerned; he softens. He submits.

His tongue flicks out, drawing along Ducks cheek and jaw, and he chirps as he retracts it. 

Duck furrows his brows.

“What the hell?”

“Duck” It’s still coming out as a chirp more than a word, his brain is getting sluggish, “It’s me. Please.” The last word is a sad chirr as he pulls his hands in frightened fists against his chest. 

Duck releases his wings, sits up, picks up the scarf, half-buried in the snow, that Indrid had thrown around his eyes in an attempt to keep his identity a secret a little longer. Looks from the black fabric to Indrid, “make that noise again.”

Indrid obeys, chirrs the way he did the first few times Duck patched him up. 

All the color goes from Ducks face in a second. 

“Indrid, oh fuck, oh fuck it is you.” Frantic hands undo the ropes and then Duck is helping him off the ground, “Oh darlin, oh love I’m so fuckin sorry. Fuck, you saved my hide back there, didn't you? Were you tryin' to save Boyd's too?

Indrid nods weakly, stumbling as they make it the few yards to the house, collapses in relief at the barest of respites from the chill offered by the wooden walls. Duck is drying his feathers, ushering him to the fireplace, heaping blankets on him, apologizing all the while. 

“-Fuck, I shoulda guessed you were like Barclay, can’t believe I was so thick-skulled-SHIT, I hit you with a fuckin shovel. Hold still, lemme see your head.” Duck kneels behind him, softly cards through the fluff on his head, curses when Indrid hisses in pain. 

“Bruised, but it ain’t bleedin. Probably helped the swellin that you had it in the snow for a bit so that’s, uh, good, the only good part of anythin I done in all this.”

Indrid swivels his head to look at Duck; the human looks lost, and more than a little chagrined. 

“Duck, I am rather durable in this form. So any harm will go away soon enough. My glasses, which are enchanted to disguise me, are somewhere in the woods, so I’m stuck like this until the morning at least. It might make dealing with any injuries a bit unusual, but it’s really no different than all the other times you’ve tended to my wounds.”

“I wasn’t the cause of those other ones!” Duck looks like he might cry, and Indrid turns, cups his face in his upper set of hands. Duck rests his own atop them, croaks out, “I tried to shoot you. I almost lost you and it would’ve been my own goddamn fault.”

“I must admit that was terrifying, and I certainly didn't enjoy being hit on the head. Yet here I am, still in one piece.”

“Yeah, no thanks to me.” 

Indrid leans forward, rubs the down of his forehead against the top of Ducks head. 

“Some of the fault is mine. I ought to have told you much sooner, but I was afraid that you would be frightened of me, or repulsed, and so I left us with no future but one where the secret came out catastrophically. I made it easy for you to conclude I was a danger to those you love.”

“Still don’t excuse what I done to you tonight.” Duck mutters. 

Indrid sits back, stares at Duck until he meets his eyes, “do you plan on ever pointing a weapon at me or hitting me with a shovel again?”

“What? No, no, god, no.” Duck’s eyes widen, horrified. 

Indrid brings their joined hands to rest between them, “Then I forgive you for what happened tonight. And I am sorry that my concealment of the truth almost lead us to disaster.”

Duck smiles in understanding at what Indrid is angling for, dips his head down, presses as kiss to Indrids hands, “I forgive you.”

He starts to curl against Indrid, then sits with a jolt, “The others, fuck, are they-”

“They all made it. The abomination will not attack anyone else tonight. And with Aubrey’s quick thinking and the assistance of Dr. Drake, Mr. Mosche may pull through.”

“Thank fuck for all of that. Poor fella, seems like he got more than he bargained for.”

“Indeed, though I suspect there may be more at play than that. But that is a question for Ned, and a question for tomorrow. I don’t know about you, but right now I dearly need to rest.”

“Amen.” Duck looks at the bed, then at Indrids form.

“I was planning to sleep on the floor by the fire. You’re welcome to help me keep warm. That is, if you’re comfortable being close to me when I’m like this.” He really hopes the smile on his face is charming rather than spooky.

Duck stands, toes off his boots, “Lemme get into my long johns and then I’ll join you.”

Indrid watches appreciatively as Duck changes, notices the shorter man blushing under his gaze. When Duck is ready Indrid lifts up the blankets, allowing him to crawl under the mounds of fabric and into Indrids arms. He doesn’t hesitate at all, burrows against his chest with a sigh. 

“Goddamn, you really were holdin out on me, we coulda been so cozy the last couple weeks if you showed me this form earlier.”

“Mmmm, my apologies for depriving you of the truly incomparable cuddles that I can give when I'm like this.”

Duck strokes a wing, and Indrids heart pangs with love when he notices the touch carries as much affection as curiosity. 

“I was right, in what I thought when I found that feather; you really are stunnin'.”

Indrid chirrs, shy and happy, “you should see me in the sunshine.”

“I’d like that. Love to see how you look when you fly.”

“Perhaps I can show you my courtship flight” Indrid murmurs, too sleepy to be embarrassed at the possible implications of that sentence. 

“Like the sound of that an awful lot, darlin’.”

They must drift off to sleep at the same time, because Indrid doesn't notice Duck falling asleep before him, just the comforting weight of his beloved in his arms as his eyes flutter closed. 

Outside the window, the wind picks up, howling through the trees. 

It does not howl alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Ned makes a confession, Duck makes a suggestion, and Indrid makes an interesting request.


	11. I Beg of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duck and Aubrey investigate, and Hollis strikes out.

Duck is toasty warm when he wakes the next morning. It’s still steadily snowing, but wrapped in Indrid’s fluff (and a half ton of blankets) it may as well be June.

The seer is chirp-snoring, antenna and wings occasionally twitching or vibrating. Duck idly strokes the edge of the nearest wing, wondering what he’s dreaming off. Traces a path through the shiny black, cataloguing the flecks of grey and white as he goes. Pets softly at the down around his neck and Indrid chirrs happily, nestles deeper into the blankets. He rubs up his neck, strokes his cheek, then brushes his thumb along the base of one antennae. 

A different chirp, closer to a purr, emanates from Indrids chest as Duck slowly traces up the antennae. Indrid’s breathing picks up, though he’s clearly still asleep. 

Huh, Duck will have to explore that later, when Indrid is awake. 

By the time he’s made coffee and breakfast, Indrid is stirring, eyes glowing dimly even in the daylight. 

“Mornin', sweet thing.”

“Mnnnpmh” Indrid’s head disappears under the blankets, leaving just the feathery tips of his antennae sticking out.

“C’mon, they even got syrup.” He waves the plate in front of where Indrids nose usually (still?) is. A small growl, but then Indrid reluctantly emerges from his hiding place. 

Duck tries not to giggle. Truly, he does.

“What?” 

“You got, uh, a few feathers out of place, well, uh, actually a lot of ‘em.” He puts the plate down so he can smooth out Indrids right wing.

Indrid gradually poofs up, which only makes Duck laugh harder, before shaking his feathers down into some semblance of order with a sigh. 

“You’re real cute like this.”

Indrid chirps, shoves a pancake into his face before glancing at the door. 

“Come in!"

Barclay steps through the door, shutting it quickly. 

“Glad to see you two in one piece. That was a hell of a night.”

“No kiddin'.” Duck sips his coffee.

“Indrid, found these on my way here.” In the palm of Barclays gloved hand are red glasses, which Indrid eagerly grabs. The blankets collapse down as he returns to his human form. 

“Mama’s asking for you both at the lodge. What happened last night changes a lot of things, and we need to work fast if we want to keep this from getting out of hand.”

Indrid wolfs down the rest of his food while Duck drains his coffee, and soon they’re following Barclay through the flurry to the lodge. 

When they arrive Mama is pacing back and forth in her office, Aubrey worriedly tossing a fire from hand to hand.

“I couldn’t stop ‘em. Those Hornets are dead-set on gettin themselves killed.” Mama says as soon as they cross the threshold.

Barclay groans, and Indrid slumps.

“They’re gettin' on their horses now, say they ain't comin' back til they get the monster what killed their friends. And we all know how that’s likely to end. Not to mention they’re still barkin' up the wrong tree; they’re lookin' for you two, not what’s really out there.”

“Let me try talkin' to ‘em.” Duck offers. 

“Try anythin' you like, hell, offer ‘em a spot on the guard for all I care.”

“Do not do that” Indrid says bluntly.

“Point is, whatever you wanna try, try. I gotta go run my lodge.” She stomps out, Barclay trailing behind her towards the kitchen.

“I’m gonna go check on Dani. She’s been stressed, what with all the talk of monster hunting.” Aubrey murmurs glumly, taking her leave. 

“And I shall leave you to your negotiations. I thought I was rested enough from last night, but I foresee myself passing out on the floor in the next five minutes if I don’t get more rest.”

“Can’t have that.” Duck draws him in for a quick kiss, then trudges out into the snow and makes his way to the stables. He’s in luck, the Hornets haven’t left yet.

“Hollis!” He calls the leaders name more than once, struggling to be heard over the wind. Finally, a golden jacket and a rather tired face approach him.

“What do you want, Duck?”

“Look, I think what y’all are doin is real noble. You’re right that there are things out there that we need to be worried about, and that there’s one that we ain’t caught yet. And, uh, I wish I could tell you more, but all I’m gonna say is that this thing, whatever it is, is fearsome as all hell. Y’all go into this blind, a lot of you ain't comin' back. Please, trust me on this.”

Hollis considers him, “Duck, I know you mean well, but I can’t sit around and wait for people to stop being all hush-hush about what’s going on. That thing is out there. It killed my friends. Whatever the rest of you have been doing, it isn't working. We’ll take it from here.”

They turn, giving a sharp whistle and the rest of the Hornets mount up. As they tear off towards the end of town, Duck shakes his head. 

Poor kids.

When he gets inside, Aubrey is just shutting the door to Dani’s room.

“Got her all curled up with Dr Harris Bonkers. No luck?”

“Nope.” Duck stares at the floorboards, pondering their next move.

“We need to talk to the bounty hunter, if he's awake. He might be able to help us know what we're dealing with.” 

“Good call. And good thinkin' with that healin' you did. You’re quicker in a crisis than the rest of us.”

Aubrey shrugs, “Just more used to chaos I think.”

“We oughta have Ned with us. Indrid said that would help.”

“I’ve looked all over and can’t find him. I’m worried about him, Duck. He didn’t say anything when we got back last night but he’s clearly hiding something.”

“It’s Ned; he’s always hiding something.”

“This is different” Aubrey fiddles with her engagement ring, “it feels personal. Like he’s really scared of us finding out.”

Duck puts a comforting arm around her, “We’ll figure somethin' out. Right now let’s focus on learnin what we can, maybe that’ll help keep things from gettin worse.”

It’s a short walk to Dr. Drakes offices, but when they arrive they learn Boyd disappeared sometime during the early morning. 

“He must have had help since he could barely stand, if that. It’s strange, there’s no sign that anyone broke in. I’m sorry, I don’t know where he’s gone.”

Standing on her steps, they opt to go to the Cryptonomica next. At best, they’ll find Ned. At worst it’s close by and will give them a warm place to plan their next move.

The building is dark, no surprise there given that it’s before open hours, 

But as the two of them step into the back office expecting to find their friend or his assistant, they both freeze: the bounty hunter is bundled on a cot, still very much unconscious. 

“What the fuck?” They speak in unison just as the boards creak behind them. 

“I thought I locked the door. I must be getting absent minded in my autumn years.” Ned has dark circles under his eyes, and his lips are drawn tight. 

“Ned, what is he doing here?” Aubrey gestures animatedly to the prone form.

“Resting.”

“Ned, how long we been friends?”

“Decades”

“Then I need you to give me an honest answer: did you fuckin steal that guy?”

“Not in slightest! Or, rather, I did remove him from Dr.Drakes care, but only because he beseeched me to during one of his few moments of lucidity.”

“Oh lord,” Duck takes off his hat, cards his fingers through his hair anxiously, “Ned, why?”

Ned looks back and forth between them, speechless. 

He’s never seen Ned speechless. 

“Ned” Aubrey murmurs, “you can tell us.”

Slowly, Ned walks past them, settles into a chair facing the cot with a groan. 

“Before I came to Kepler, I did not live the most honest of lives. I made my living through, well, relieving others of their valuables. Boyd” he nods towards the bed, “was my partner.”

The dual implications Ned lends the word are not lost on Duck.

“I hadn’t seen him in years. When he turned up here, I tried to keep my distance. Make it clear I had no interest in his newfound pursuits. But he sniffed me out. He tried to entice me into helping him with a promise of splitting the resulting wealth. When that didn’t work he threatened to expose my past. There were things we stole that, well, that had higher costs than I anticipated.”

Duck chews his lip, “Beacon one of them?”

“What? Oh no, my friend. He was delivered many years ago. A strange woman said you were his true owner, but that you’d had no interest in him. I figured once you started aiding us in the Pine Guard that his time had come. No,” he sighs, “it wasn’t that sword.”

Ned reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket, retrieves something wrapped in a handkerchief that he holds out to Aubrey. 

“We stole that years ago. When I wouldn’t cooperate, he stole it from me and threatened to reveal it to you.”

Aubrey is just staring at the item in her palm; a necklace, with fiery jewels at the center. 

“The flame-bright pendant.” She’s blinking back tears. Then her head snaps up, “ _You_. My mother needed this, she, we, we lost her so soon after and I, you took it from her.” Her left hand catches fire and Ned shrinks back in his chair. 

“We didn’t know it was anything more than an expensive bauble.”

Aubrey stares at him for an eternity, then extinguishes her hand, takes a deep breath, “Ned, from here on out, unless it’s Pine Guard related, I don’t want to see you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I, I need to be alone.”

Duck doesn’t try to stop her when she darts past him, and instead turns his attention to Ned. He has half a dozen questions but the one that comes out is, “You know what she meant about her mother needin the necklace?”

“I...overheard her talking to Mama one day. Something about how the necklace is enchanted, how once it was gone her mother wasted away.”

“For fuck’s sake, why didn’t you come clean sooner?”

“I was waiting for the right time.”

“Like hell you were. You were bein a coward, same as you always have.” Duck feels anger sparking in his chest, decides it’s best if he follows Aubreys example. When Ned opens his mouth to protest Ducks comment, he holds up a hand, “I don’t wanna hear it right now. All I hope is that you can unfuck things with Aubrey. I’ll see you around Ned. Your partner pulls through, you better tell us every fuckin thing he says.”

With that, he’s gone.

\----------------------------------------------

As he creaks the door to Indrids room open, he spies the seer sprawled on the bed, deep asleep. He searches for a stray bit of paper so he can leave a note for him.

“Mhhzuh, how’d it go?”

“Jesus! You’re a light sleep sometimes, you know that?”

“It’s kept me alive more than once. And you’re avoiding my question.”

“Ned’s got an injured bounty hunter in his back room and might’ve indirectly killed Aubreys mother. And Barclay had a note waitin for me from the city, they need me to come deal with an Oak that’s threatenin' to fall on the courthouse.”

“Dear me, today is going with the worst timelines.” Indrid sits up, still looking exhausted, “I ought to have been more proactive.”

“Darlin', you can’t stop every bad thing from happenin'.”

“I know.” He says softly in a tone that suggests he doesn't believe the words. 

Duck is making sure he has everything he needs for work (he'll have to run by his house for his toolbelt) when Indrid looks at him, “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“A few days ago I mentioned that I knew you and I both had more...intense desires that we’d yet to introduce into our bed. Would you ever want to be rather aggressive with me?” He looks up from where his hands are fidgeting in his lap, smiles, “the blush on your cheeks suggests the answer is yes.”

“Got that right.”

“If I were to ask you to be more than merely dominant or a bit rough, and to do what you wanted with me even if I pleaded for rest or asked you to be gentle, would you want to do that?”

“Depends. Where is this comin' from?” 

Indrid is shredding a piece of paper in his hands, “I, I enjoy such things, because they help me let go, let me feel helpless in a way that’s pleasant rather than aggravating. And sometimes I” he bites his lip, “I don’t want to be the most frightening thing in the room.”

“Don’t think I got it in me to frighten you again, darlin'. I hate the idea of you bein scared of me.” He sits on the bed beside Indrid, takes his hands and holds them gently.”

“It’s not true fear. It’s, it’s a sort of playacting, where I know deep down I’m safe because I’m with you and I trust you, know that I can call the whole thing off with a word if it becomes too much, as can you.” Indrid rests his head on Ducks shoulder, “But if the idea is truly not something you’d enjoy, we can forget the subject entirely.”

“I” Duck pauses, needing to get his thoughts in order, “I really like the idea. Really, _really_ , like it. But I don’t think tonight's the night for it. Think you’re still shaken from yesterday, when I thought you were a monster, and I am too. Don’t want somethin' that’s supposed to be fun turnin' into us workin' through those feelin's in a bad way.”

“That seems wise.” Indrid cuddles closer. 

“Tonight, I just wanna come back here after work and hold you.”

“Only holding?” Indrid teases.

“Okay, you got me, might be some kissin' and touchin' too. Point is, tonight I don’t want nothin' but to treat you gentle and keep you warm.” He kisses Indrids temple, earns a pleased chirp in response. 

“That sounds perfect, my love.”

Duck kisses him again, stands up even when Indrid gives a little whine.

“I gotta go, darlin'. See you tonight.”

Indrid springs up for one more kiss and purrs, “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

\--------------------------------------

“Mr. Newton?”

Duck is damp, and tired, and cold, and the last thing he wants right now is to talk to Agent Stern. But he pauses at the foot of the stairs leading up to Indrid’s floor all the same. 

“What can I do for you?”

“I went to question Mr.Mosche, hoping to learn what attacked him, but he’s nowhere to be found.” He levels Duck with a gaze that’s all steel, “you wouldn’t happen to know where he’s gone, would you?”

“Uhhhhhhhhhm.”

The front door swings open and Hollis rushes in, shaking snow from their shoulders. 

Stern says, “any news” at the exact moment Duck asks, “is everyone alright?”

Hollis looks at them, then at the other lodge residents and handful of townsfolk milling about the lobby. Defeat is plain in their face. 

“Yeah, everyone’s fine. For now. We came back because we thought you all should know that winter really has come early. The pass, and the road on the other end of town, have been cut off by the storm.”

“You don’t mean-” Stern’s features fill with terrible understanding. Hollis nods solemnly. 

“We’re trapped until spring.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: A brief respite.


	12. Dreamed of Him All Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duck fulfills a promise to Indrid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Note: Duck follows through on Indrids request to be very rough during sex, including things like ignoring his pleas to be gentle. It's established that they have a safeword, that everything is consensual, and that Indrid is enjoying himself, and aftercare is shown.
> 
> Relatedly, I had to look up "brat" to make sure it was already in use as a word during this time period.

There are many people in the world who believe a life is only worth living if it’s a deluge of excitement, of chaos, of disasters nearly averted.

Said people are very wrong. 

Or, Indrid muses as he stares at the future on his notepad, they have only lived peaceful lives and do not understand the gift that truly is. 

It’s been two days since Hollis returned with the news that they were closed off by the snow. By some merciful turn of fate, there has been no excitement since that night. No attacks, no terrible secrets revealed. Just people making the final adjustments to months trapped in the mountains. 

Duck’s been busy with work, the storm having revealed some trees that were in desperate need of tending to avoid them dropping branches in inconvenient places. But he’d left a message for Indrid this morning, asking him to come by his home at four and plan to spend the night.

Indrid doesn’t need to look at the future to know what that means. 

He braves the chilly air (it’s stopped snowing, though he knows it will start again that night), arriving at the house exactly at four. When he opens the door the room is warm, dark save for the light of a fire. 

“Glad you made it on time, darlin'.” Duck is lounging in a chair by the fire, legs spread and a book resting in one hand.

“As am I.” Indrid grins, steps forward only for Duck to raise the hand holding the book.

“I tell you to come over here?” His voice is tinged with potential menace. 

Indrid freezes, “No.”

Duck smirks, “Right answer. On your knees.”

He kneels, blood thrumming in his ears already and suddenly very glad that he and Duck and spoken about things that were absolutely off-limits during sex. Because if this is going where he thinks it is, Duck is planning to put him through his paces. 

“Take off your coat. Outershirt too.” Duck crosses to the cedar chest at the head of the bed, picks something up from atop it as Indrid rushes to comply. He pauses, holding both pieces of clothing; should he set them aside? Hang them? Give them to Duck?

There’s a wooden clack as the chest shuts and Indrid jumps.

Duck laughs, turning with his hands behind his back “already gettin skittish on me?”

Indrid inhales deeply, centering himself. As much as he looks forward to submitting, he wants to give Duck the chance to break him, rather than show his belly right away.

“I was simply lost in thought, and it startled me.” He tosses his clothes towards the chair where Duck had been. They hit the floor.

Duck waits until Indrid is looking at him, then draws his hands around to reveal something that makes Indrids heart do flips.

He’s quite certain Duck didn’t own a riding crop two days ago. 

Duck approaches slowly. Indrid keeps his chin tilted up and a pleasant smile on his face. The shorter man stops about a foot away. Extends the crop and traces the smooth leather across Indrids cheek. 

“Tell me what you say to make me stop.”

“Beacon.” Indrid murmurs, recalling a previous conversation. Duck meets his eyes for a beat, gaze loving and smile shy, before his expression hardens.

“Here’s how this is gonna go, sweet thing.” The crop traces along his cheekbone, “you’re gonna do what I say, when I say it. You do that, this’ll be real fun for both of us.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then it’ll be real fun for me.” He’s never seen a smile like that on Ducks face. It’s downright predatory.

The crop continues tracing his face, eventually trailing lower and Indrid tips his head back to allow it to stroke his neck. It feels lovely, anticipatory. 

“Really ain’t ever met anyone like you. You got the most stunnin' face.” 

Indrid purrs, leans into the crop when it curves back up to his cheek. 

“Oh darlin',” Duck comes a half step closer, coos, “I can’t wait to ruin you.” The crop traces past his lips and Indrid bites it, tugging lightly on the leather while growling at Ducks words. 

“That ain’t behavin' yourself.” He’s close enough to reach out and pets Indrids hair. 

Indrid growls louder. Pain spikes through his head as Duck fists a hand into his hair and hauls him to his feet, dragging him in for a rough kiss and then shoving him towards the bed. 

“You ain’t on your hands and knees by the time I count to five, there’s gonna be trouble.”

“What kind?” Indrid tilts his head with a grin, sitting down on the bed.

Duck crosses his arms, “One”

“You know I can just look at the future to find out.”

The world twists as Duck grabs him and flips him over, his knees denting the blankets and his face trapped against them by a strong, calloused hand on his neck.

“That reminds me. Any time I find you peekin' at the future, that’s one more time I fuck you without you gettin' to come.”

Indrid moans unabashedly at the implications of that sentence, manages to turn his head enough to see Duck adjust his grip on the crop so he’s holding it at the middle. The grip on his neck tightens, catching short hairs and making him gasp.

There’s a sharp thwap of leather meeting the left side of his ass. His clothes offer some barrier to the pain, but he squeaks all the same.

“That’s for not doin' what I told you.” Ducks' voice is businesslike, timbre back to normal, even as the second strike hits Indrid on his right side, “that’s for thinkin' you could get around me with your powers. And this” his grip drops back to the handle and the rod of the crop comes down on both sides of Indrid ass in one swift motion, “is just cause it gets me hard.”

“That hardly seems fair.” Indrid mutters into the quilt. 

The crop slides down to the inside of his left thigh, then slithers back up to rest against his cock. The pressure increases ever so slightly, and he arches his back with a hiss. 

“Darlin', you don’t get any say in what’s fair right now.”

Indrids cock twitches and he cautiously ruts against the crop, smirks into the pillows when Duck sucks in a breath; he hadn’t been expecting that. 

“Honestly, my sweet, did you think I’d turn obedient and begging from just a few little smacks and some threatening words?”

The crop disappears, but seems poised to strike, Indrid suddenly aware that Duck may choose a very painful bit of payback for that comment. He supposes he could look at the future quickly, Duck can’t see his face. But he did ask Duck to be cruel, and he’s not interested in softening the treatment by seeing it coming. 

The next strikes catches the backs of his thighs, Duck laughing low and brief.

“You ain’t beggin', but I already made you breathless. And I ain’t gonna hit you there, case you were worried, might need your cock later.”

Indrid exhales the breath he’s been holding, growling in mock indignation and genuine lust at how easily Duck is toying with him. Duck laughs again, brings his palm down on Indrids ass once, twice, and then the bed dips. Ducks body cages his, familiar lips trailing kisses down his spine.

“In case you thought I was bluffin'” a cock, still clothed but tantalizingly hard, grinds against his ass, “got like this just from watchin' you squirm on my bed.” The lips start on his right side, just below his ribs. Teasing bites join the kisses, Indrid chirping out “oh” each time Ducks teeth meet his skin. When the lovebites stop he whimpers, grinds against Duck once to see if that will earn him more. 

“Seems like you want somethin'.” Duck drawls, tracing figure eights on his lower back. 

“Th-the biting, it feels so good, my love.”

“You want more bitin'?”

Indrid nods eagerly. Then he yelps as Ducks mouth finds the crook of his neck, biting hard and sucking harder. He attacks the other side next, chuckling against his skin when the seer writhes backwards from the sensation, pressing against his cock. 

When he finally lets up, he nips Indrids' earlobe.

“Next time you want somethin', you better say please, or I’ll make those bruises so bad you’ll have ‘em for weeks.”

“Understood.”

Indrid looks over his shoulder, marvels at how unruffled Duck seems. Leans awkwardly for a kiss, trying to say please and ending up with a soft chirp instead. Duck catches his meaning, cups one cheek to steady him and dips down for a gentle kiss. 

“See, darlin', I ain’t all mean. All you gotta do is stop bein' a spoiled brat and I’ll take real good care of you.” Another kiss, too brief to really satisfy, and then he hops off the bed. 

“Get so you’re at the foot of the bed, then get back in that position.” 

Indrid settles on crawling, given how lightheaded he is from his body sending blood south rather than north.

“I’m not spoiled” he points out as he shifts, “goodness, Duck, you saw where I was living.”

“Funny thing about that; got talkin' to Barclay the other day and he mentioned that you came from a pretty high up family back home.” There’s a tell-tale unclipping of suspenders.

“To a degree, though I left home rather young. Where are you going with this-oh” He offers a delighted inhale when he looks up to find Duck down to his undershirt, the garment tented by his cock. 

Duck steps to the bed, strokes Indrids brow thoughtfully, “Where I’m goin' is that you were real spoiled growin' up. Then you came here and got spoiled by gettin' to hole up and draw rather than workin' like a dog day in and day out. Hell, I been spoilin' you when we fuck, dotin' on you instead of makin' you take my cock every night as a thank you for takin' such good care of you.”

Indrids cheeks are burning. Were it anyone else he’d have a dozen rejoinders. But because this is Duck, fingers warm on his face and voice dripping with dark promises, he simply meets his eyes and purrs, “how do you propose we remedy that?”

Wordlessly, Duck grips his jaw, forcing his lips apart. When the head of his cock rests on his lower lip, Indrid can’t resist flicking his tongue across the slit for a taste. Duck presses in an inch and Indrid closes his lips with a hum. 

“There we go, sweet thing, now you got the right idea. I’m gonna decide how much you take, you’re gonna do the rest.” He cradles the back of Indrids head, pushing him down a little more. The seer sucks eagerly, licking along the shaft, savoring the way his mouth stretches to accommodate him. Duck has gone suspiciously silent save for small moans whenever Indrid hums low in his throat and so Indrid hums more, bobs his head now and then, chirps when Duck scritches his neck.

Without warning Duck shoves him all the way down, groaning loud when Indrid gurgles in surprise. He recovers fast, lapping at the base of his cock like he’ll die if he doesn’t.

“Oh shit that feels good, need you to get the whole thing wet, fuck, so it's nice and slick for the next part.”

Indrid nuzzles the skin and coarse hair with a purr, redoubles his efforts. Duck pulls back after only a few seconds, leaving Indrid panting. 

“Stay put.” 

Duck circles behind him, climbs onto the bed. Strong arms wrap around Indrids hips as Duck unbuttons his pants and eases them down. Indrids eyes flutter shut and he sighs as Duck lightly touches and teases his ass. 

“Mmmm, that feels so ni-OUCHohhhhh!” Indrid squeaks as Duck slaps his ass twice, then purrs as he goes back to kneading it softly. 

“Love watchin' your ass go red from my handiwork.” 

There’s a wet, obscene sound that he knows is Duck rubbing his cock. A hand grabs the front of his thigh, but there’s no further touch. Indrid frowns, twitches his hips side to side. 

“Aww, I’m sorry darlin', did you think I was gonna fuck you right now?” The head of Ducks cock teases along his ass and he chirps excitedly. Then it disappears. Indrid peers behind him, where Duck is busy fucking his hand, fast and efficient. 

“Naw, this is just about me havin somethin' nice to look at while I do this.” He smirks, hips already stuttering, already close and Indrid has barely gotten to touch him, to kiss him, to do _anything_.

Something in Indrid snaps.

“But, _I_ can do that. Please, Duck, please let me touch you.” 

“Just for that bit of whinin'.” The hand leaves his thigh, grabs his hair instead and shoves his face forward and down “you don’t even get to watch. Oh fuck, fuck, yeah.” Wet spatters Indrids ass as Duck comes and he whimpers in delighted embarrassment at the feeling and his own neediness. 

“I just wanted to be good for you” He protests meekly.

Duck makes a choked, affectionate, sound, nudging Indrid onto his back with one hand.

“Well, since you helped me out with uh, target practice” he snickers, “guess I can give you a reward.” 

He holds three fingers, streaked with cum, to Indrids lips, “suck.”

Indrid obeys, heat coursing through him when Duck sighs happily as he licks his fingers clean. All too soon he pulls them away and Indrid sits up to chase them. Duck catches him by the chin, kisses him lazily. Brushes their noses together, Indrid gasping when a newly clean finger teases up his cock, still achingly hard. 

“I got some chores to do. You stay on this bed, better not catch you off it, and no touchin' your cock.”

Indrid has several good reasons why Duck should stay on the bed with him, why he should wrap those perfect fingers around his cock and stroke him until he’s a moaning mess. 

When he opens his mouth, at that escapes is a plaintive chirring sound.

“Couldn’t have said it better.” Duck teases, kisses him once more and then leaves for the kitchen.

Indrid groans, flops onto his side. The tin of lube and a few condoms sit on the far end of the bed along with the riding crop, which means Duck must be planning to fuck him eventually. 

He wonders if this isn’t merely part of the game; Duck had mentioned he might need a pause from being rough and, clever man that he is, he’s worked out how to do it without breaking the spell. There are dull, everyday sounds from the kitchen and after five (or possibly five hundred) minutes Duck returns, draped in his thick robe. He stops at the bed, Indrid perking up as he does, but he simply delivers another kiss, and a handful of strokes to Indrids cock, before settling by the fire.

That bastard, he’s going to keep Indrid hard for goodness knows how long. 

Then again, he only said no touching his cock. 

“Duck?” 

Mismatched, attentive eyes meet his own.

“Could I have a blanket? I’m getting rather chilly.”

Duck grabs one of the blankets hanging on the other chair, drapes it over Indrid. Doesn’t notice that the lube and condom Indrid tucked behind him. 

“Thank you.”

“Anytime, darlin’. Can’t have you catchin' a cold right when we’re gettin started.” He sits back down, picks up the books he was reading when Indrid got there. Indrid makes a show of nestling under the thick flannel, rolling so his back is to Duck in the process. 

Carefully, Indrid slips a condom onto his finger, coats it with lube and presses inside. If he can keep any strange noises from slipping out, keep his motions small, he should be able to at least relieve some of the pressure. 

He works up to two fingers quickly, pages turning behind him every so often. Duck seems engrossed enough in his book that Indrid hazards some sharper thrusts. 

“Havin' fun?”

He rolls back over too rapidly to suggest anything but guilt. Duck is standing at the side of the bed. 

“Oh, ah, don’t mind me sweetheart, I was simply adjusting. I’d hate to interrupt your reading.”

“Real easy to turn a page every now and then while you’re actually watchin' somethin', or should I say someone, else.” The gaze darkens, “You got one more chance to explain.”

“I…” Duck arches an eyebrow and Indrid decides that honesty is his best chance, “you don’t know the things you do to me, I needed to be touched, and you didn’t say I couldn’t do this so I did.”

Duck sighs as if he is the most put-upon man on earth, yanks the blanket off of Indrid and tosses his robe onto the ground. 

“See, this is what I mean about you bein' spoiled.” He crawls onto the bed, flipping Indrid over with ease and pulling him back onto his elbows and knees, “you break a rule, but then you look at me like that and instead of makin' you wait longer I’m gonna do what you want.”

“Yes, you seem terribly burdened by it.” Indrid teases dryly. 

He goes still as the head of Ducks cock teases at his entrance. 

“Wasn’t finished. Was about to say I’m gonna do what you want, on _my_ terms.”

“I, ohOH, I’m s-sorry, AH” two fingers to Ducks cock is a stretch, literally, bordering on painful and it’s exactly what he’s craving.

“You’re about to be.” Duck growls, pushing in with one, demanding thrust. 

“Gentle, love please, oh, oh _god_.” Duck begins pounding into him, tempo merciless and movements harsh. He lets out a broken moan, chest white hot with pleasure at knowing that, unless he invokes that unpleasant sword, Duck will keep at it no matter how he begs for gentleness.

“It’s so much, Duck, sweet one, you’re so big, please, just a moment to-SHITshitshit.” He curses when, as his body tries to pull away from Ducks’, the other man grabs his hips and jerks him backwards with a grunt.

“Watch your fuckin' language.”

“Fuck you.” Indrid growls into the bed, smiling to himself when Duck smacks his ass. The man is incredibly easy to tease.

Hot breath prickles his ear, “brat.” 

A hand closes around his cock and he moans, scrabbles at the blanket, “no, wait, not yet, I don’t want to come yet.”

Ducks voice, and the kisses he places on Indrids jaw, are too sweet given what he's doing to the rest of him, “you ain’t earned a say in that. Hell, with how you’re actin, you’re lucky I’m doin' this at all. So say thank you.”

Indrid chirrs in frustration. The hand on his cock tightens and good lord there is a dangerous amount of strength in that grip. 

“Say. Thank you.” Duck repeats, all traces of warmth gone from his voice.

“Thank you.” Indrid whispers, then cries out when Duck strokes him, twisting at the head as he keeps fucking him, becomes dimly aware that he’s still talking.

“That’s it darlin, god I can feel you shakin, can feel how bad you need this, fuck, fuck your ass feels amazin when you’re about to come.”

“Not yet, I’ll be good, I just want to be good, please give me a chance.” He bites his lips so hard he tastes iron, comes across Ducks hand and his own belly. It’s exquisite, and his whole body shudders with relief. He whimpers as Duck pulls out gracelessly and turns him onto his back.

“I want to be good.” He says quietly, lip trembling.

Duck crawls on top of him, kisses him slowly while sweeping the hair from his glasses.

“Yeah, sweet thing, I know you do.” The next kiss is deeper, Duck eventually dragging his mouth down Indrids throat, coming to rest on his collarbone. He bites gently, something Indrid never thought possible until they were together, smiling whenever Indrid sighs. Then he shifts up onto his elbows.

“You wanna try bein' good for me?”

Indrid nods, glasses slipping down his nose. Duck pushes them back into place, sits up to slide his cock back in. Indrid gasps, arches off the bed, giving Duck the chance to circle one arm under his back.

He fully expects a continuation of the previous pace. Instead, once Duck is fully seated, he simply adjusts his hips and then leans down for another kiss. 

“Duck?”

“Yeah, Indrid?” 

“You can, well, there’s no need to go slow on my accountohhhhh.” His whole body lights up when Duck pulls slowly, oh-so-slowly, most of the way out.

“I know. You said you wanted me to mean, right love?”

“I did.”

“More than one way to be mean.” He presses back in, agonizingly slow and Indrids body is coming down from his climax enough that he’s getting sensitive and he squirms.

“Not to mention this way I get to watch your handsome face as I break you apart.”

Indrid blushes at the compliment, feeling absurd at the reaction under the circumstances.

“I mean it; never met anyone who looks like you. Never been anyone in my life who could make me speechless just by lookin' my way.”

Indrid moans and Duck sucks a new mark onto his shoulder, keeps up his tortuous pace. 

“Never been anyone who could take my cock the way you do. Mmmmdamn.” He purrs, tilting his head back and Indrid surges up to kiss his throat. 

The next inward thrust catches Indrid at his prostate and he chirps sharply at the overstimulation, throwing his arms around Duck. The shorter man chuckles indulgently, but makes sure his next thrust hits the same spot, hugs Indrid closer as he repeats the motion again and again. Indrid holds tight, chirping and trilling and “yes-ing” and then Duck gives a few shallow, rushed thrusts and comes moaning Indrids name.

Gingerly, he pulls back, panting and grinning. Indrid knows his face must look the same, that all the dishevelment and lust of Ducks features is mirrored by his own.

“Had your fill?” 

“Oh, darlin'” Duck lifts Indrids right hand, kissing his palm, “I ain’t done with usin' you by a longshot.”

He pads away from the bed and into the kitchen, returns a moment later with a water glass. Takes a sip before offering it to Indrid, who gulps half of it down gratefully. Duck finishes it off, wanders over to the table and sets it down. Lifts his robe off the ground and slings it back on, although he leaves it untied.

It’s only when he’s sitting in the armchair that Indrid understands why. 

“Come sit in my lap.”

Indrid bounds off the bed, taking the hand Duck offers and letting himself be drawn down to sit crosswise on his lap.

Duck sets about kissing him, only breaking away when absolutely necessary, tongue demanding and breathing heavy. His hand teases Indrids chest, circling his nipples and pinching lightly every now and then, Indrid catching Ducks laughter in his mouth whenever the seer squirms from the pain. 

It doesn’t take long before Ducks cock is brushing, thick and dripping, against Indrids' thigh.

“Go get a condom.” 

Indrid hurriedly retrieves one, watching hungrily as Duck rolls it on.

“Now, you’re gonna sink that nice little ass down on this, and you got two minutes to make me come.” He produces a pocket watch from (unsurprisingly) the pocket of his robe.

Indrid straddles him, cocking his head, “And if it takes longer?”

“I bend you over the back of this here chair and fuck you until you scream.”

He grabs Ducks head and kisses with a shuddering moan.

“Time starts as soon as youohfuck, do that. Shit, goddamn, love watchin' you bounce on my cock like this.”

“I oh, oh gracious, love it too ahyes” He throws his head back, focuses all his effort on jolting up and driving back down, moans and chirps bursting from his throat and ricocheting off the walls. 

Ducks’ hands are everywhere, squeezing and petting and Indrid is already getting hard, already hoping for the chance to paint Ducks stomach with his come. 

Suddenly, Indrids hips are yanked down and held in place, Duck giving a long, guttural moan. 

“Hah” Indrid is panting so hard he can hardly get the words out, “I did it.” 

That spine-tingling laugh, roiling with lustful menace, rumbles out of his boyfriend as he holds the watch in front of Indrids eyes. 

“Think again, sweet thing. I ain’t come yet. And your two minutes are up”

\------------------------------------------

Duck is half-drunk on lust and power, and then Indrids eyes widen at his words, mouth parting in a silent, “oh.” That tips him over the edge, and he’s laughing and growling all at once, pulling Indrid off his cock and onto his feet, spinning him around and shoving him over the back of the chair. Then that perfect ass is right there, open and waiting and _his_ , and he shoves himself in without gentleness or warning, laughing again when Indrid lets out a shrill, choked chirp. 

As he pounds into him, he savors the fact that, instead of the tightness that comes with the first fuck of the night, Indrid feels like he’s stretched to accommodate Duck and Duck alone. That possessive thought coils in him, makes him dig his nails into the left thigh and smack his ass with the right.

“That’s right, you sweet little thing, you’re gonna take me until I’m good and done with you, because you are, shit, you are fuckin mine.” Another slap, and another, and Indrid is moaning wantonly, a dozen “yeses” spilling from his mouth, his hips tilting back whenever Duck slaps him. So he keeps up a steady barrage of blows until his hand stings and Indrids skin is reddening. 

“Duck, please, oh goodness, I’m close, I’mOHohhh.” He hears nails tearing at fabric and Indrid is coming wordlessly, a pathetic little cry leaving him as Duck fucks him through it. 

“That’s a good little thing, damn _damn_ , means you can take it even better now.” 

That same desire to just _take_ Indrid, greedy and heady, is overtaking him as he leans down to whisper, “I even been holdin back a little up til now.”

Indrid whimpers, “a moment, please, oh please.” But he doesn’t say the word to make him stop, whines and wriggles with what Duck knows is a happy sound when he grasps both his hips. 

Then he’s fucking him with every ounce of strength he has and Indrid yells, straightens, fingers digging into the chair hard enough to tear it, and then collapses forward, limp and pliable beneath him.

“Fuck, _fuck_ , fucking take it, take it, you are mine, you, shit, obedient, filthy, fucking perfect little thing and that means we’re done when I say.” He jams in particularly hard on those last three words, groaning at the sound of his skin slapping against Indrids. The seer is moaning and sobbing, pleading and praising, in English and in what must be his native tongue and it drives Duck wild to know it’s because of him. 

“Love the way you sound, fuck, you sound like you oughta be puttin' on a show, gettin' your ass fucked open for a crowd, you sound so pretty, and it’s all for me.”

“Yes, all for you, only for you, oh Duck, Duck, _yes_ , please.” Indrid hiccups, tone encouraging and loving even through the tears.

“Lookit you, can barely, oh fuck that feels good, barely stand and you’re still beggin' for more. Oh shit,” he jerks his hips as fast as he can, grunting with delight “c’mon, c'mon, that’s it, oh fuck darlin', fuck, take it you spoiled brat, it's what you deserve, take fuckin all of itooohfuck _me_.” He comes and it knocks the wind out of him. For a moment all he can do is hold tightly to the trembling man underneath him.

He steps back, then immediately dives forward to catch Indrid as he slides down onto the floor. The thinner man is shaking, sniffling, and Duck whips his robe off so he can draw it around Indrid instead. 

“I got you, darlin', I got you. That was amazin, you’re amazin', I love you so fuckin' much and you’re so good to me, so wonderful, my Indrid. You, was it, uh, was I okay? Are you?” He kisses tears from one cheek, wipes them from the other with his thumb.

Indrid nuzzles him, “You were spectacular. As am I.” When they pull back to look at each other Indrids eyes are hazy, dreamy. Duck helps him scoot over so he’s facing the fire, back resting against the chair, bundles blankets around him into a multi-colored nest.

"You know I don't, uh, don't really think you're spoiled right. Hell, you're one of the least demandin folks I know."

"I do. I" he yawns, "I assume all but flattery is just bluster during sex of that kind. Was it really alright?” The lilting voice is shy.

“I loved every fuckin' second. Bein' rough like that it’s, well, it’s somethin I like a lot, like that you trust me enough to do it.” He kisses Indrids cheek, “but right now I like the idea of bein' sweet a whole lot more.”

Indrid nods sleepily, only looking anxious when Duck stands.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be right back, just gotta start some hot water.” 

He does, grabs a small bag of sweets from where he hid them in the kitchen. Throws a clean shirt on and sits down next to his drowsy lover. Offers a piece of candy, smiles and places it on Indrids tongue when all the seer has energy for is opening his mouth. Indrid curls against him, humming happily. Soon the water will boil and he’ll make them tea, wipe Indrid clean and read to him until he falls asleep. But for now he’ll sit there in the pure heaven that is Indrid cuddled beside him, where he can whisper sweet nothings and feed him sweeter ones while the snow falls softly outside. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

They don’t go back to the lodge until the next evening, Indrid hiding his hickeys under a thick scarf. 

The briefing is grim and simple. 

“Duck, I need you, Aubrey and Ned to search the area where the monster took out that bounty hunter. Indrid, you’re with me on the East end of the woods. Barclay’s gonna stay here and watch Thacker.”

“Wait, why?” Duck asks and Mama waves him over to the room where Thacker is kept. In the past, the man has stayed statue still. Now he’s pacing, and when Mama and Duck peer into the room he turns, snarls, and lunges.

“What the fuck?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

“It may be related to this abomination.” Indrid muses, picking up the sketchpad he keeps in the safehouse.

“All the more reason to get the damn thing tonight.” Mama crushes her hat onto her head and they all gather their weapons. 

The trek through the snow is miserable, and not just because of the chill. Aubrey and Ned don’t speak to each other and the silence, even though it helps them track, makes Duck edgy.

They’re near the creek when Duck holds out his hand to stop them. There’s snuffling, crunching snow, and then a huge shadow is coming through the trees.

It’s bigger than any bear Duck’s ever seen, dark fur bristling, paws thudding in ominous, slow steps across the forest floor. 

It doesn’t see them, not at first. But then it lifts it’s head, sniffing the air, and a huge, canine head swivels towards them. 

Duck’s heart is an icy hammer in his chest. He knows what this is, though he’s only ever heard the legends. 

It’s a direwolf.

And it has them in its sights.


	13. 600 Pounds of Sin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duck freezes, Aubrey fires, and Ned flees.

We’re so fucked.” Duck unshoulders his rifle, orange flickering in his periphery as Aubrey readies herself.

“Not yet we’re not.” She flashes him a remarkably reassuring grin, “It’s just another bom-bom. We can take it. And I don’t know about you, but I got someone really cute waiting for me to come home. So let’s do this.”

Duck fires, hits the direwolf square between the eyes. Aubrey and Ned cheer.

The beast shakes it head, huffs out a breath the billows through the dark air. Takes another step towards them. 

“Aubrey…” Duck doesn't need to finish, his friend launching bursts of flame at their attacker. Sickly yellow eyes illuminate from the sparks, and it throws back its head to howl. It’s the howl of the dead, of souls in purgatory, of absolute, unrelenting agony.

“It’s only singed! What the fuck, what the fuck?” Aubrey hurls another fireball, but it too does little beyond darkening the wolfs fur. 

Duck draws Beacon; whether it’s instinct or desperation that tells him it’s the right weapon, he’ll never know. 

The direwolf charges without warning, splitting the trio in two. Duck grabs Aubrey and pulls her as far away as his strength will throw them, Ned leaping the opposite direction and tumbling into the snow. Their enemy turns, easily, regarding them with fangs bared. 

It’s gaze shifts between them, pivots to Duck and Aubrey. Duck can’t hold Beacon steady, can’t stand, can do nothing but sit frozen. Aubrey is no better, even as her fingers flicker and spark like dying matches. 

Every regret, every petty harm or cruel action he’s taken floods his mind, even as he flails to push them aside. Now is not the time for his life to flash before his eyes. Not here, not when his friends need him. 

He stands.

The wolf growls.

The sound sends a bolt of pure, painful penitence and Beacon falls from his hands. With the last calm, stubborn part of his mind he tries to search for the blade, even as he sees the monster readying to spring.

“Leave them alone, my friend.”

Ned’s voice rings clear.

The wolf cocks it’s head, but it’s gaze remains fixed on the pair kneeling in the snow.

“My name is Edmund Kelly Chicane. I believe you know it.”

Duck turns in shock, Aubrey gasps behind him. Ned’s never given his full, true name. The direwolfs head swivels to regard him, snapping sideways at an unnatural angle, lips parting in what Duck swears is a sneer, choice made.

And lord have mercy, Ned isn’t so much as trying to reach for his gun. He looks at Duck and Aubrey and simply says.

“Run.”

Then he’s turning his back on them, on the monster, and tearing away towards the heart of the woods.

“Ned!” Ducks hears Aubrey scream it along with him as the direwolf gives chase.

They look at each other for a beat, and then they’re running after him. 

“Try’n slow it down!” Duck charges forward, flash of fire passing him as Aubrey barely misses her target.

“Ned fuckinKelly Chicane, this is fuckin harebrained even for you!”

Aubreys next fireball catches the wolf on its heels and it stumbles, but doesn’t so much as look back. It’s singleminded, and it’s gaining on it’s quarry, Duck can see the gap closing through the snow stinging his eyes. He forces himself to run faster, gets close enough to swing Beacon and connect with the monsters flank, drawing blood.

It whips around, sends him flying back with a swipe of its forepaw, and then it’s off again.

Duck scrambles to his feet just as Aubrey sprints past him. If they’re not careful, they’ll lose them in the trees.

He spots a grove of old pines up ahead, and as he enters them time seems to slow. The direwolf connects with Ned, who hits the ground and stays there.

And then a paw arcs in the air, coming down on his friends chest and stomach.

“Get away from him!” He’s screaming over the snow, over the blood in his ears, over Aubrey yelling something he can’t hear.

The creature turns to look at them, disinterested. 

A metallic burst of sound and then it’s howling, clawing at its side, thrashing away from the man on the ground. Another rings out and the wolf rears back and howls long and furious, before lumbering into the trees. 

Aubrey is already moving. 

“Ned, Ned! Please, don’t be dead, I can fix this.”

Duck turns, prepared for Mamas’ stoic expression.

“You know, Mr.Newton, I believe you know more than you’ve been letting on.”

Agent Sterns dark hair is dusted with snow, his face implacable as he holsters his pistol. 

“I’ll, uh, I’ll explain everything just-” he looks over at Ned, at Aubreys frantic motions as she tries to heal him.

Stern lifts a hand, expression softening, “Say no more. There'll be time enough once Mr. Chicane is taken to the doctor.”

Duck stumbles through the snow to drop next to Aubrey. 

“I can do it, I just need a little longer.” Tears are pricking her eyes even as she sets her hands and posture with resolve.

“Come on, Ned, stay with us.”

The wounded mans’ eyes crack open, and he smiles weakly.

“Thought I told you two to run the other way.”

“Ned, you’re a crooked old son of a gun whose been a pain in my ass more times than I can count, and you’re also a damn fool if you thought we were just gonna let that thing take you.”

“Aubrey..” Ned lays a hand a top of hers. She shakes her head, eyes still shut.

“Don’t. You’re gonna be okay, we’ll talk about it when you’re okay.”

He pats her hand lightly, settles his own on his chest and gazes up.

“Wish it wasn’t winter. I would so like to have viewed the stars one final time.”

“None of that, I won’t have you dyin on us now, not until you pay me back that two dollars.” Duck’s voice cracks.

“Won that fair and square.” Ned murmurs

Aubrey opens her eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Look” she tilts her head down.

The bleeding’s stopped, the wound in Ned’s chest is trying to close.

“Is there a way I can assist.” Stern is closer than before, but clearly keeping a respectful distance. 

“You got any fuckin idea where we are relative to Dr. Drake? Or the Lodge?”

“Not far at all” A familiar, deep voice answers and Barclay appears, “I can carry him back, then get him in the cart to take him to Dr. Drake. Aubrey, you better stay with me.”

Duck spies a dark figure in the air that, upon seeing Stern, drops below the treeline. 

A moment later, Indrid emerges, breathless. 

“Aubrey, Duck, I’m so sorry, I didn’t get here fast enough he’s-” he stops, looks more carefully at Ned, “he’s not dead.”

“Not if we act fast.” Barclay lifts Ned carefully, Stern coming to help him take the older mans’ weight. As they move as fast as they can back through the trees, Indrid drops back to walk beside Duck.

“You changed the future.”

“How so?”

“Ned died in every timeline, I was watching it happen and then…” He trails off, looks at Duck with quiet awe, “something you or Aubrey did changed it infinitesimally and it all reset. We’re not out of the woods yet, but odds are good he survives.”

“That’s, uh, that’s good.” They step into the warm light shining through the windows of the lodge and Duck is suddenly bone tired. He stops, rubbing his face as if he can scrub everything he just witnessed away like so much dirt. 

Wiry arms wrap around his shoulders, and he buries his face against Indrids neck. The seer hums, pure-toned and soothing, stroking his back.

“We’ll eventually need to join the others. Mama is going to make an announcement to the town tomorrow and we need to prepare for the possible repercussions. But there is time enough to rest in my room awhile, if that’s what you need.”

“Please.”

Indrid ushers him upstairs, helps him out of his jacket and shirts when Ducks fingers are shaking to hard to work the buttons. When he guides him to the bed Duck pulls back for a moment.

“This is foolish, I oughta go with the others to Dr.Drake, hell, oughta make sure Aubrey is okay and, and.”

Indrid rests a palm on either shoulder and eases him down until he’s sitting.

“My love, while I admire your noble heart, you are this close” he holds his thumb nearly against his finger, “to passing out. You cannot help anyone in that state. If you’d like, I will go with them to make sure all is well.”

Duck nods, and Indrid bends to kiss him once.

“I’ll return shortly. Please try to rest.”

Duck tries. And tries. And tries. 

But with the lamp on, he can’t sleep. With it off, he can’t stop seeing yellow eyes in the shadows. 

It’s hopeless.

\---------------------------------------

Lamplight is still coming under the door when Indrid returns. When he steps into his room, it takes him a moment to locate his boyfriend. 

Then he spies the Duck-shaped lump hiding under the blankets. 

“My love?”

Slowly, the blankets peel back. Duck looks so haggard, so _frightened_ , and all Indrid wants to do is tell him everything will be fine (that’s not entirely true. Deeper down, he wants claw the creature that did this to pieces).

“Everyone is as alright as circumstances allow. Dani is tending to Aubrey, given that she burned a lot of energy tonight. Barclay is filling Stern in, but only on certain details. As far as Stern knows, that direwolf is the only otherworldly creature in town. And Ned is sleeping; I helped Aubrey put him under a spell that will allow him to heal during a few days of uninterrupted rest.”

“Guess that’s the best we can hope for.”

Indrid perches on the bed, strokes Ducks hair, “how are you, my heart?”

“Fine, uh, completely fine, fuck, never been better.” 

“Duck.”

“This don’t make any fuckin sense! I oughta be helpin my friends, oughta be only a little out of sorts, and instead I’m fuckin shakin and hidin like a scared child.” He’s sitting up, carding his fingers through his hair the way he always does when anxious or frustrated.

“What do you know about direwolves?” 

Duck thinks for a second, “Bigger than bears, with yellow eyes and howls like the damned, as my grandma always put it. Always figured they were made-up stories to keep you from wanderin into the woods.”

Now it’s Indrids turn to think, to decide how much he wants to reveal. 

“Direwolves serve a very specific purpose, at least where I come from: They hunt those who have erred in some way; killers, thieves, liars and the like, all those are said to be prey for the direwolves. But part of how they find their target is their gaze. They draw forth a persons memories, everything they’ve done wrong. When you face that gaze you, or rather, its said that you are so seized with fear and regret that you cannot move.”

“Sounds about right.” Duck murmurs, pulling the blankets closer. 

“What I mean to say is, you’re not a coward or weak for feeling as you do. You just stared down a creature that is fear incarnate.”

“Guess that helps some. But I’d really like to be able to fuckin sleep.”

Indrid stands, pulling off his glasses.

“Duck, look at me. Look at my claws” he opens all four of his hands, “or my teeth” he opens his mouth wide to show them in their razor sharp rows. 

“Is this supposed to be comfortin?”

“What I am trying to say is that, while the direwolf is formidable, I am not to be discounted. I will protect you, no matter what. Also, the lodge is covered in more protective wards than I can count. You can sleep here safely.”

Some of the tension leaves Ducks shoulders.

“Would, would you be willin to sleep with me like that tonight?” He asks meekly. 

“Of course. Stand for just a moment.” 

Duck crawls from the covers and Indrid takes his place, stretching out on his back, holding the blankets up with two hands and patting his torso with a third.

“Come lay down.”

He adores it when Duck cuddles on top of him like this, his weight and warmth feeling delightfully different yet just as reassuring as they are when they’re both human. Indrid closes his wings around him, two arms holding the sleepy human while the other two rub his shoulders and back. The purring isn’t intentional at first. He’s happy when he holds Duck like this, and so he purrs. But then he remembers how his father used to purr and hold him when, as a young seer, he’d become terrified by bad visions. So he purrs deeper, feeling Duck relax in his embrace. Eventually a snore reaches him and he smiles. 

Indrid doesn’t consider himself brave, not truly. The way he scurried through town on his way to and from the doctor, jumping at every shadow and sound for fear of seeing the wolf, is proof of that much.

But for Duck? For Duck he will be as brave as brave can be.

\---------------------------------------

The following morning, the lobby of city hall is a sea of apprehension when Mama stands to address the crowd. 

“There ain’t a pleasant way to say this, so I’ll speak plain: somethin’s come out of the woods that we ain’t seen in nearly a decade. A direwolf.

Gasps and frightened murmurs fill the room, mainly from the lodge residents, but plenty of the townsfolk go pale. 

“In case you ain’t aware, direwolves can sniff out sin a mile away. Which means ain’t a single one of us safe, because there ain’t a human over the age of ten who ain’t done somethin worth regrettin.”

“Sooo, are we just going to sit around and wait for it to pick us off one by one?” Hollis asks from their position in the back of the hall. 

“No, we ain’t. There’s a handful of us who can-”

“Bullshit. This thing's already killed two people, wounded four more, and whatever you’re doing isn’t working. We oughta go after it. All of us.”

There’s a clamor, voices arguing with Hollis and voices agreeing with them, until Stern stands beside Mama and gives a sharp whistle. 

“While I appreciate the sentiment, far more people are likely to die that way. Which is why I, the sheriff, and mayor have agreed that the town is now under curfew, given that the creature most often attacks at night. No one is to be out after dark barring life threatening circumstances. During daylight, citizens are advised to stay indoors and as far away from the woods as possible.”

“What happens if we don’t follow those rules?” Hollis is curious rather than openly challenging. 

“I have been granted the power to place anyone not complying with these precautions in jail. It’s not an option I enjoy, but it may prove necessary.”

Hollis says nothing else, but with a jerk of their head they and Hornets depart the hall. The other residents trickle out behind them.

When they return to the lodge, Aubrey and Indrid set about shoring up the magical protections on the lodge while Mama, Duck, Barclay, and Dani work on the physical ones.

In the town below, the citizens of Kepler bar their doors, block up their windows, and wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Duck and Indrid find a way to pass the time while the town is on lock-down.


	14. A Hardworking Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boyd gets bad news. Indrid gets messy.

Life in Kepler is stiller than Duck’s ever seen it. In the winters folks stay in much of the time, but on days when the snow and cold aren’t too bad, usually the children will be tearing through the park while their parents visit each others warm houses. 

But now, in the days since the town meeting, it’s rare to see more than a person or two outside.

In spite of their combined, best efforts, the Pine Guard is no closer to catching the direwolf. An entire wall of the safehouse is covered in drawings and string from Indrid frantically tracing futures, Aubrey nearly collapsed the day before after trying to keep her third eye open too long in hopes of spotting tracks, and Duck’s pretty sure the bottoms of his feet are run clean off. 

They have, at least, learned one potential weakness of a direwolf.

_“I don’t get it” Duck sips his coffee, Stern leaning against the bar and scanning the windows and doors in the same way he’s been every night since he the attack, “how come when I shot it, nothin happened, but you hurt it bad enough to make it run?”_

_“Silver bullets.” Stern pats his jacket where the inside pocket must be, “of my initial theories was a werecreature of some kind. Apparently it’s enough to at least temporarily injure the beast, though I doubt it can kill it outright.”_

_“Better than nothin'.”_

_“I’ll drink to that.” Stern clinks his mug against Ducks, muses for moment before asking, “I still can’t make heads or tails of that red fur. Or that feather in your cabin.”_

_Duck excuses himself to go check on Indrid._

He’s only been home to make sure the damn place is still standing and not filled with raccoons or rats or some other critter seeking shelter. That’s where he’s tromping away from now, back towards the relative safety of the lodge. 

When he reaches it, Aubrey is pacing outside. She’s been at it awhile, if the melted tracks of snow are anything to go by.

“ Everythin alright?”

“We should go check on Ned, right?” She stops pacing, takes up flicking a small flame on and off in her hand. 

“Reckon so.”

“I don’t want him to be awake yet. That’s...not a great feeling, and I really want him to be okay but, man, I do not want to have that conversation about the necklace with him.”

Duck loops an arm around her shoulders and she rests her head against him. 

“Look, why don’t we start by goin' down there, seein how he’s doin', and then we’ll work it out from there. If nothin else, we can both agree he’s real sorry and wants to make things right.”

“I know. That still doesn’t change…” she touches the necklace. She’s been wearing it, hidden beneath her clothes, since Ned gave it back. 

“Hell, maybe he’ll admit he’s been dreadin it too and that he was tryin to get eaten by a direwolf just to avoid the whole conversation.” He jokes darkly and Aubrey snorts, elbows him lightly in the ribs and then they’re off. 

Dr Drake let’s them in, but as the pair reaches the room where Ned and Boyd were both convalescing, they hear a voice.

“You silly old git, what have you gone and done now?”

Duck and Aubrey back against the wall, the door ajar enough to give them a glimpse of Boyd sitting up on his bed, staring at a still-sleeping Ned. 

“I swear, you’re more trouble than you’re worth.”

The bounty hunter stands with a groan, circles so that he’s resting a hand on one of the bedposts by Neds head. His gaze is unreadable enough that Duck touches his hand to Beacon, ready to draw him just in case. 

A tattooed hand reaches down, and both Aubrey and Duck stiffen. Then it ruffles locks of greying hair and a genuine, odd, smile, as if the lips are unpracticed at it, curls across Boyds face.

“This is why should never have abandoned me, Edmund. As a pair we were invincible. Look at where bein' apart landed us.”

Aubrey mouths “we should go” and Duck nods, but as they tiptoe away-

“Duck Neeewton, must you skulk in corners?”

“Goddamnit, Beacon.”

Boyd is at the door incredibly fast for someone with legs that wobbly.

“What the hell do you two want?”

“We came to check on Ned.”

“Uh, also, could I maybe get a thank you for saving your ass a few days ago?”

Boyd blinks at Aubrey, but says nothing,

“And while we’re at it” she lifts the necklace chain up so the pendant glitters in the dim room, “how about you also apologize for kinda sorta killing my mom.” 

The tattooed man sits with a thud.

“What the hell do you mean. We didn’t, we never, that was _part of our code_. Good lord, Ned is one of the softest men there is when it comes to hurtin people.”

Aubrey steps around him and into the room without another word, placing one hand on Ned's forehead and the other hovers above his wound. 

Duck offers Boyd a hand and, after glaring for a moment, he takes it.

“What did the creature that got you look like?”

“Like a big fuckin wolf.”

“Sam thing got Ned. And, now, don’t take this the wrong way, but did you...tell it about him?”

“Are you sayin I sicced it on him?” Boyd growls. 

“Nothin of the kind, but when he told it his name, he said it might know him.”

Boyd crosses back to his bed, settling on it heavily. 

“Didn’t say a bloody thing to that monster. Just felt like it was tearin' my soul open before it started on my innards.”

Duck understands, sees clearly now the connection, but he doesn’t trust Boyd enough yet to share it. So he simply says, “huh.”

“He has maybe another day before it’s safe to pull him out of the sleep Indrid and I put him under. We’ll tell Dr. Drake you’re awake on our way out.”

“Glad, uh, glad you’re feelin' better.” Southern manners die hard, Duck muses to himself.

“As am I” Boyd's smile is that same, disingenuous sneer he gave when he first arrived that lodge, “I do so look forward to spending more time in this lovely, not-at-all backwater town to catch up with an old chum.”

Duck gives him his brightest grin,clapping him on the shoulder “Good to hear, because we’re snowed in until March.”

Boyd goes pale.

“You mean I’m stuck in this bloody place with Ned fucking Chicane until spring!?”

\-----------------------------------------

When Duck puts his hand up to knock on the door of Indrids room, a voice calls, “come in, Duck!”

Indrid is standing at the mirror, glasses off, straining to groom the backs of his wings. The feathers are stuck out at all angles, and there are sticks and dead leaves caught in them.

“I went on a scouting flight and had to dive down for cover when I saw the Hornets.” He tries grabbing a stick stuck over his shoulder, ends up spinning in a circle while flailing at it and Duck snickers. 

“Want me to fix ‘em up for you?”

“Please.”

Duck sits on the edge of the bed as Indrid settles on the floor in front of him. 

“Any, uh, sore spots or spots I shouldn’t touch?”

“No, you may touch wherever you like.” Indrid looks coyly over his shoulder.

“Gonna hold you to that, handsome.”

He starts with the worst spots on Indrid’s back, pulling out twigs and smoothing down the fluff beneath the larger feathers. Indrid is humming, and Duck finds he has no need to talk. It’s enough to be here, to have Indrid letting him do something so intimate. He shifts the primaries that are askew back into place, brushing each one lovingly. 

Indrid chirrs happily, and his antennae twitch. 

“Need me to do your wings?”

The left wing extends, eyespot catching the lamplight. Duck picks a leaf from the center of the pattern, then traces the circles with his fingers.  
Indrid chrips, wings extending further. 

“That feel good?”

“Lovely, it’s how I imagine cats feel when you pet them.”

“Thought you only pet possums.”

“I’m never living that down am I?”

“Nope.” Duck finishes smoothing at the first wing, “other side, please.”

Indrid stretches his right wing and Duck sets to work, gently pulling out a few feathers that are split in half. As he’s carding his fingers between the larger plumes, Indrid’s head begins to droop.

“You sleep at all last night?”

“Only an hour, much like the night before. Between trying to track the direwolf through the futures and general worry, I can’t get my mind to be silent. Even when I’m exhausted it’s as though my body refuses to shut down.”

“How about I stay up with you?”

“Duck, the situation will not be improved by both of us-oh, I see.” He gasps when Duck nuzzles the back of his neck, managing a few kisses in spite of the thick fluff. 

“Gonna be up all night, may as well spend some of it enjoyin yourself.”

“Mmmmm, an excellent point.” He rubs his head against Ducks hand, “let me just grab my glasses.”

“Won’t be needin ‘em.” 

Indrid turns, surprised.

“You’re sure? I, well, I was under the impression this form is not appealing to humans in that way.”

Duck trails his finger along the top of one wing, “guess it’s appealin to at least one. Or maybe it’s more that I’m head over fuckin heels for you, and that means I’m wild about you even when you got feathers and more arms than usual. Or maybe.” he leans close to where he assumes Indrids ear is, lowers his pitch, “I like the idea of showin' you that I’m in charge no matter how big and tough you look.”

Indrid’s antennae are twitching in earnest as he drags his tongue across Ducks neck, whispering, “yes, oh please, you’ve no idea how perfect that sounds.”

Duck begins scratching and scritching his fingers along Indrid’s neck and shoulders.

“We safe to do this on the bed, or is it gonna break?”

“I imagine it will be fine, after all these beds are made with my kind in mind. Then again, probably the assumption is we’ll only be sleeping in them. On the other hand, Aubrey and Dani must-”

“I’m gonna stop you right there, because Aubrey is like a little sister to me and I do not wanna think about my little sister gettin down.”

“....Don’t you have nieces and nephews?”

“We’re gettin off track.” Duck grins, flicks his finger lightly on the tip of one antennae.

“Eeeeeeeeeehp.”

Indrid clamps all four hands over his mouth, eyes wide with embarrassment.

Duck does it again, slower this time. Two hands stay covering his mouth, but the lower pair scrabbles at the floor as Indrids hips push forward. It’s only when the high noise stops that he lets his hands drop.

“Gnnnah, how did you know to do that?”

“I was petting you once while you were sleepin and touched one. Got a hell of a reaction when you were out cold, figured we could try it again when you were awake.”

“Clever little human.” Indrid purrs, tipping his head back so it’s resting in Ducks lap.

“Damn right.” Duck pinches both feathery tips at once and Indrid squeaks, “got a favorite way for me to touch ‘em?”

“You can grip a little tighter if you likeAHhhnnnnnnnnnn” The lower set of hands is now clutching Ducks calves, claws nearly piercing the fabric. Duck laughs, continues rubbing his thumb and forefinger up and down one antennae while stroking Indrids cheek with his free hand. 

“Think you could come like this, sweet thing?”

“N-no, not, not quite, but I couldn't care less, don’t stop, don’t st-oh you absolute son of a-” He whinegrowls when Duck puts his hands on the bed. 

“What’ve I said about makin demands.”

“That I should say please?”

He glides his pinky up the left antennae, “see, you can remember when you need to.” He kisses Indrids cheek, keeping his head close as he coos, “you remember what happens if you don’t say it?”

Indrid hesitates, thinking, and as he does Duck sinks his teeth into the crook of his neck. He’s getting more than little fluff on his tongue, but it’s worth it because Indrid is making a broken, chirping moan, feet joining his hands in scratching and kicking at the floor.

When Duck finally releases his neck, he kisses Indrids shoulder, watching his chest rise and fall rapidly. 

“Now, you wanna try that again?” He murmurs.

“Please” Indrid pants, “please, keep touching them my love.”

“Much better.” He begins working a hand up and down each one, savoring the increasingly broken sounds filling the room, “get your cock out, darlin. Uh, that is, assumin'l you have one.”

Indrids lower hands dive between his legs, and he paws himself frantically. For a moment Duck is transfixed by the sight of a large, ridged cock coming into view. Then he looks up, spying his reflection in the mirror.

Better yet, he can see Indrids face, the way his lips and mandibles are parting, the dark red tongue slipping out as Indrid fucks his hands. His eyes are squeezed shut in concentration, every muscle in him straining towards Ducks touch. It kindles a dozen desires in his chest, floods his mind with all the ways he can please and torment and fuck to pieces the stunning creature in front of him. 

He knows just where to start.

“Open your eyes, darlin. Nuh uh,” he scolds gently when Indrid starts turning his head, “don’t try’n look at me, look at yourself.”

Indrid locks eyes with himself in the mirror, and hesitates.

“I’ve never watched myself before.”

“If it’s too much-”

“No, no I want to.” He smiles reassuringly.

Gingerly, he starts stroking himself again. Duck keeps up his teasing of his antennae, but wraps one arm around Indrids chest. 

“Know why I’m makin you watch?”

“NoOH” he arches his back.

“I want you to see how good you look when you start comin apart. How gorgeous you get when you let go, when you let me take care of you. Want you to see what I see when we do this.”

Indrid makes a soft keening noise, titling his head back. Duck drops his hand from the antennae to yank Indrid’s gaze forward again by his feathers. The seer comes with a startled cry.

“That’s it darlin, see how pretty you are when you come for me.”

Indrid manages to spin in his embrace, chirping and licking and nuzzling at Duck until the human is laughing.

“Gah, that tickles, ah, hey, takin that as a sign you liked that.”

“So much, my love.”

Duck scritches the dark fluff along his neck, “you tired?”

“Not enough to sleep.”

“Guess I got more work to do then. Lay down.”

Indrid rolls onto his back on the floor. When Duck straddles his hips, the black wings unfurl automatically along the ground. The white half-moon patterns on the inside of the wings begin changing color, taking on a pinkish hue. 

“Oh.” Indrids eyes widen, and Duck would lay money that he’s blushing under all that soft down, “this _is_ interesting.”

“You tellin me you don’t change color every time you fuck?” He traces his fingers up and down his belly, occasionally grinding his cock against Indrid and wishing he’d had the presence of mind to take of his pants.

“Yes and no. My kind, we, we use color in our markings to signal emotions. It’s sort of unconscious.”

“And this color means….?”

Indrid clicks the claws of his top hands together anxiously, “uh, if we were fighting, it would be a sign of surrender. Asking for mercy ohhh.” He cuts off into a purr as Duck takes a lower arm and kisses up the inside of it.

“‘M listenin, just felt like kissin you at the same time.”

“In, in this context, it’s submission. I’m giving you the chance to manhandle my wings, a sign that I’d like you to take the upper hand. As it were.”

“Not askin for mercy?” Duck asks nonchalantly, plan solidifying in his mind.

“Quite the opposite.” Indrid grins and then Duck shifts backwards until he’s between Indrids legs. Reaching between them, he finds the waiting cock half-hard, teases it lovingly with his fingertips.

“Here’s what I’m gonna do: I’m gonna suck you off.”

“Oh _yes_.” 

“But” Duck levels him with a dark, serious look, “you ain’t allowed to make a sound.”

“Don’t you like them?” Indrid cocks his head and Duck cards a hand reassuringly across his stomach.

“So much, darlin. But there’s lots of other folks here. Wouldn’t polite to make them listen to you screechin and beggin all night.”

“They’d survive.” Indrid pouts.

“Well, if manners ain’t reason enough” he thumbs over the slit of Indrids cock and the whole appendage is thrust up into his hand, “every time you open that mouth of yours without permission from here on out, that’s another time I make you come.”

“What a terrible fate.” Indrid flops an upper forearm against his forehead.

“Just you wait. And that’s one.”

Without warning he drops his head down and takes a long, hard suck of the head of Indrids cock. Indrid just manages to clamp all four hands over his mouth before a high noise echoes behind them. 

His cock is cooler in this form, the soft, short fuzz on it reminding Duck of a peach. A purr is vibrating up through it, but Duck decides not to count that against him. He keeps his tongue at the tip, lips already stretched wider than he thought possible to accommodate it. When he brings his hand around the shaft, he accidentally squeezes at one of the ridges.

A new sound reaches his ears and he realizes it’s Indrids wings quivering on the floorboards. 

This time, he squeezes the ridge on purpose. Indrid thrusts up into his mouth and he growls, drags his tongue over the bottom side. Indrid’s hands have moved from his mouth, as two settle in Ducks hair, petting it, and he spies the other stroking Indrid’s wings and chest.

He brings both hands to his shaft, making sure they’re hovering just above one ridge each. Then he grabs and twists hurriedly, causing three things to happen at once.

Indrid yelps, full-throated and ecstatic.

He pushes Ducks head further down.

And he comes, hot and sticky down Ducks throat and across his tongue. Duck pulls his head away, smirking through his cough. 

“Sorry!” Indrid is half sitting up, trying to wipe stray drips from his lips. Duck simply pushes him back down, grinning at him wolfishly. 

“Ain’t no need to apologize. But you’ve already earned yourself two more.” With that he takes Indrids cock, still pulsing slightly, back into his mouth. 

There’s a thud as Indrid drops fully back on the floor. His hands are touching Duck wherever they can reach, and Duck brings one of his up to take one.

He has a choice; he could draw this out all night, find every way to make Indrid come. But Indrid really should sleep, and making him come over and over again in a short period might do the trick. 

Duck hums, works his free hand up and down the still-hard cock. Twists his thumb and finger along each ridge in turn, desperately repressed squeaks coming from Indrids chest. When Duck licks in time with the twists, Indrid doesn’t last long, coming with a shudder.

Duck’s ready this time, swallows the first bit easily, spits the rest aside quickly and dives right back down. Sucks gingerly, but relentlessly, even as the cock tries to soften. Indrid makes a pained, delighted sound in his throat, but manages not to let it escape his lips. He’s getting the hang of the game, just as Duck is.

Time to up the stakes, then.

Duck keeps his left hand on the shaft, snakes the other up the floor and into the underside of Indrids wing. Digs his fingers in, the feathers trembling as firmly strokes them. Indrid’s chest is moving rapidly, high sounds barely contained as Duck presses and smooths and ruffles.

Then he tugs the feathers and Indrid’s lips burst apart in a trill, hips jerking weakly as he comes in Ducks mouth for the third time. 

He sits up, wiping his mouth with his arm, and crawls up to straddle Indrids chest. 

“Just earned yourself another.”

Indrid growls, but keeps his mouth shut as Duck unbuttons his trousers. 

“Start touchin' yourself.”

Indrid growls lower, though Duck notices the color in his wings is staying pink. 

“You don’t do it this time, I will. And I’ll do it as many goddamn times as I can.”

Indrids lowers arm circle past Duck and the little twitches of his hips suggest he’s following orders. 

Duck pounces, throws a hand into either wings and ruts against the fluff and solid muscle below it. It’s like fucking velvet, like fucking heaven, warm and soft and utterly alien. His fingers search out each sensitive spot of the wings, and when he scratches down Indrid thrashes, increasing the pressure on his cock deliciously.

“That’s it darlin, you wanted to submit? Then fuckin submit, stay down and take whatever I wanna give you.” He tugs at both wings simultaneously.

“FUCK!” Indrid chirps, trying to spread his wings wider, offer Duck more access.

“Yeah, oh shit yeah, you sweet thing, when I’m done with you everyone’s gonna be able to, fuck, tell I been fuckin you. Gonna come all over your stunnin feathers, let ‘em see you covered in your own spend from how many times I made you feel good.”

“Duck, Duck, please, I need, it’s too sensitive, I don’t think I can, ohoOHHHH” 

Duck forces his palms down into the wings and drawls, “you can, darlin, because I said you can, and you wanna be good for me.”

Indrid whimpers, and Duck can hear the slick sound of his hand dragging come along his cock faster and faster and then there’s a little chirr and he tenses, hands dropping to the ground. 

Duck let’s himself go, presses his head against Indrids neck and bites over and over, hands ravishing his wings and cock spreading a sheen of pre-come and sweat up and down the panting, perfect mess of a being beneath him. 

Indrid’s sounds change to ones Ducks never heard before. They’re sharp, rhythmic trills, lower than normal. For a moment he’s worried he’s hurting him. 

“Pleapleaseplease, don’t stop, oh my love, oh, yes, take me, use me, I’m yours.”

Duck comes with a groan, keeps grinding against him until the sensitivity makes it unpleasant. 

He rolls off the seer, who mirrors the motion so they’re face to face, draping a wing over him with some effort. 

“Did that, uh, fit the bill?”

“Mmmmmmhmhmmmmmm.” Indrid snuggles closer, “goodness, I didn’t know it could feel that good with humans in this form.”

“Nice to have a pleasant surprise for once?” Duck kisses one antennae lightly.

“Indeed.”

“Guess you’ll have to start teachin me what your other colors mean, right darlin? Darlin?”

Duck peers at Indrids face and smiles; his love is sound asleep. 

\-----------------------------------

The next morning, a well rested Indrid and a mostly-well rested Duck (he doesn’t love sleeping on floors) join the rest of guard in the safehouse. 

Mama is holding her hat in her hands, toying with the brim. Before her is a battered book, full of writing Duck can’t decipher. 

“Think it’s time we were all on the same page. Aubrey, can you read this line right here?” 

Aubrey reads the line as Mama runs her finger under it, her words sounds like so much gibberish to Ducks ears. 

Light rises from the pages, coalescing into shapes. 

“To save our hides right now” Mama declares, “we’re gonna need to learn from the past.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: A history lesson


	15. Don't You Lie to Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Information from the past, and surprises from the present.

_Indrid Cold surveys the gathered crowd from his position at the back of the Sylvain delegation. Even in his newly donned human form, he’s taller than most people here._

_At the podium, the minister of defense and the ambassador to earth stand side by side with the mayor of newly minted town of of Amnesty, Virginia, and the earth ambassador to Sylvain._

_“Citizens of Amnesty, children of Sylvain and of earth, this is a momentous day.” The ministers voice rings out clearly as they speak to the throng of Sylphs and humans._

_“As I stand on the steps of the city hall, in a town built by our combined hands, I am filled with a new kind of hope. A hope that Amnesty will be the first of many joinings of our worlds. A place were Sylph and human alike can trade and travel, share homes, customs, and hearts.”_

_Indrid spies a few pairings of humans and Sylphs in the crowd who smile brighter at that last word, wrap arms around each other or join hands. Funny, he thinks, that his kind can so easily fall in love with this planet, with its people. He understands the first, but the second strikes him as an odd choice indeed._

_Oh, the minister is addressing them, he needs to stand straighter._

_“To the delegation from my home, I say this: You our some of our finest, the bright stars of Sylvain. Do you, each and every, swear to represent your home well, and to keep our human neighbors from harm?”_

_Indrid answers yes, along with all the others._

_And then the scene shifts. Indrid is in a small room with the minister, mayor, ambassadors, and a select few from his delegation._

_“You understand, of course, that there will be dire consequences if either of our sides breaks their promises.” The minister of Sylvain says gruffly as they sign the treaty between the two worlds._

_“Is it not thus with every such arrangement?” the mayor signs his name._

_“Sylvain is a living place in a way earth is not. We have even sent a piece of her heart with as a gesture of goodwill.” The minister indicates a dark-haired woman. Around her neck, there hangs a flame colored pendant. She looks Indrids way with a reassuring smile._

_“But more than that, because she lives and breathes, if the balance and peace between our worlds id thrown off, if promises are broken, she may act in self-defense in a way I cannot stop.”_

_“I thought that’s what you sent him for.” The mayor points to Indrid, who is already quite tired of explaining how this works to people._

_“I will do my best to foresee any dangers and protect Amnesty from them. But I can’t keep humans or Sylphs from doing something foolish or underhanded should they choose to.”_

_“All we can do now is hope for the best, and trust in community we have built.” The dark haired woman says matter-of-factually_.

The image from the book flickers and then disappears. 

Indrid’s heart is a vise in his chest, just as it was all those years ago.

“Indrid?” Aubrey is the first to speak, and he answers the question that comes in every future.

“Yes, Aubrey, you saw correctly. That was your mother in those recordings with me.”

“My mom was from Sylvain?”

“More than that.” Indrid looks at her, “she was part of Sylvain. The pendant you now where was part of her very being. She left here after, well, after-”

“Everything went to hell.” Mama says, carefully closing the book. She looks at Indrid, “you want to tell ‘em, or should I?”

“I would prefer it be you.” He keeps his gaze on the table. A warm hand closes around his own, and when he glances up Duck’s gaze is understanding. 

“Back when Kepler was still Amnesty, the Pine Guard was more like welcomin committee that did some security on the side. Abominations slipped through now and then, but it was more a matter of helpin Sylphs adjust to town. Lodge came to be maybe thirty years after the town was founded. Course, those days everyone knew that this was where Sylphs stayed if they didn’t have any place in town to go.”

Barclay passes her a mug of tea, and she takes a long sip before continuing, “no one knows why it went south. Ask me, it was just little things that built up. One too many abominations got a chance to do damage. One too many humans crossed over to cause trouble. One too many Sylphs came over here thinkin humans were easy to control. But the town got worse, the abominations came more and more regularly. By the time my grandma was runnin the lodge, only a few humans knew about the Sylphs, and no humans went over. The only Sylphs who came our way were those who needed somewhere safe to land.”

“And my mom?” Aubrey whispers.

“She left about forty years ago, said she wanted to see more of the human world. She loved it here, was completely enamored by it. In that she and I understood each other well. Then it seems she met your father and had you. I did not keep as close a watch on her as I ought to’ve.” Indrid adds. 

“So, she died because Ned and Boyd stole her heart.” A bitter tear traces it’s way down Aubrey’s cheek, even as Mama puts an arm around her.

“It’s not quite that simple; I fear something was already brewing in Sylvain. She was so tied to the health of our home, that without the necklace she couldn’t survive, because the part of Sylvain that lived inside her had weakened.”

“All that said, my friends, I cannot ever begin to atone for my part in the loss.”

Standing in front of the shutting door is Ned, looking like he might…

Oh dear.

“Duck, please grab him now. He’ll collapse if you don’t.”

Duck loops an arm under Neds own, guides him down into a chair.

“You found it in Thacker’s notes when we were looking for a cure for the Tatzelworm, didn’t you? The information about the direwolf.” Barclay pours a glass of water and offers it to Ned. 

“That I did. When it went after our trio, I knew it could only be me it was chasing.”

“As with Aubreys mother, I’m afraid it isn’t that simple. The direwolf attacks those who have committed wrongs, that much is true. But it was sent here to hunt someone _specific_. When you drew its attention it saw your sins, including the ones it learned of from Boyd. Those were enough to make you prey in that moment. Yet, had it's true quarry been you, it would be gone by now.”

“So we gotta find the person it’s huntin for and, what, feed them to it? That don’t feel right.” Duck cards his fingers through his hair and Indrid longs to hold them, to curl up in his arms instead of having this awful conversation.

“It might be the only way. There is still no means of killing it that we know of, and the alternative is it picks people off one by one until spring comes and any survivors can flee. ” Indrid keeps his voice as free of feeling as he can. 

“But that information needs to stay between all of us, y’hear? Last goddamn thing we need right now is a witch hunt lookin for who the wolf is after. What we need is-” Mama cuts off as the door swings open and Agent Stern steps inside. 

He looks at Barclay, arching an eyebrow, “Just a cellar, huh?”

“Alright, you got us. This here’s the room where we do our plannin for things like huntin the direwolf.” Mama crosses her arms as Stern circles the room, gaze taking in the weapons, maps, and notes. 

“I had a hunch it was a much, that's why I followed Mr. Chicane down here. Honestly, why all the secrecy? I made it clear I wanted to help you.”

“Most of us have learned the hard way about trustin people with these secrets.”

“Yep, took a long time for Mama to, uh, no, wait, fuck, bring me on, no, it took uh, months, not a night, uh fuck.” Duck’s lie distracts Indrid a moment too long.

" That's enough, Mr. Newton. I also came down hear because I think you have something I'm looking for. I have rather good hearing, and a certain name has been whispered more once among you all." Stern sets his hand on the doorknob leading to Thackers room. 

“Wait, Lucky.” Barclay steps forward. Stern gives him a heavy look, flips the bolt, and swings the door open.

Instead of growling, there’s the sound of unsteady footsteps, and then Arlo Thacker steps through the doorway, shaking his head. His gaze lands on the cook.

“Barclay, where am I?”

“You’re, you’re home, Thacker. You’re at the lodge.”

“Goddamn, how long I been out?” 

Before anyone can answer Mama closes the space between them and wraps the man in a bear hug.

“Six years. And I was lookin for five and a half of ‘em before I found you again.”

Thacker laughs, hugging her back, “Aww, Madeline, always knew you were a softie deep down.”

“Uhhhhhhh, guys?” Aubrey is pointing hurriedly at Stern, who’s face is moving from surprise to righteous anger.

“You’ve been keeping a missing man _in your cellar_?”

“He was hurt, we we’re looking after him until he was well.” Barclay reaches for Stern, who slaps his hand away.

“Any other secrets you’ve been hiding from me?” He snaps.

“You sure you wanna know the answer?” Barclay growls. 

“Hold up, if everyone can just calm- oh, _shit_.” This last part Duck says as Ned slumps out of his chair and crashes to the floor. He and Aubrey both kneel down, the young woman looking furious for a moment before softening at something Duck says to her. 

In the commotion, Indrid sees it coming, sees the moment Thacker turns and his eyes widen as they take in the seer. Then he watches it happen again.

“Indrid?”

“Hello, Arlo.”

“Indrid, what in the hell happened out there?”

He swallows nervously, knowing there is not a single future where he gets out of this conversation. 

“We got separated, remember? That abomination attacked us in the woods, and threw us in opposite directions.”

“Right, right.” Thacker murmurs, nodding. And then he shakes his head, confused, “No, wait, that ain’t what happened. I remember us fightin, I remember it grabbin me, you gettin farther and farther away.”

“Yes, because it pulled me-”

“No” Arlo shakes his head again, eyes sad and voice soft, “Indrid you, you ran away.”

All noise in the room stops just in time for everyone to hear him continue.

“You abandoned me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Boyd causes problems, Duck problem solves, and Indrid comes to an understanding.


	16. The Cards Were All the Same

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth will out, in more ways than one.

Duck watches the truth filling in the edges and lines of Indrid face. Watches as the man he loves lies through his teeth.

“I didn’t _run away_. That’s, I’d never.” He looks helplessly at the others, “I’m here to protect humans, we got separated, you remember.”

“Indrid.” Thacker doesn’t seem angry, “I do remember. I remember that huge swirlin mass of dark surroundin us. I remember you sayin there was no chance of both of us makin it out. Then you got the same look on your face you got now. And you ran.”

Duck doesn’t want to believe it. But all the times Indrid nearly died saving others, all the times Duck patched him up, he’d never been able to shake the feeling his bravery was about more than just being good, or just keeping Duck safe. 

Indrid was atoning for something. Now Duck knows what.

“We didn’t stand a chance.” Indrids voice cracks as he speaks, “there wasn’t any point in it taking both of us.”

“You _lied_ to us.” Mama’s voice is cold.

“Would you have preferred the truth? Preferred I admit a moment of cowardice? You would’ve turned me away! All the times I saved you after that, they would’ve been gone.” Indrid lashes out.

“Rather die than put my faith in a coward.”

Indrid says nothing, merely gestures emphatically at Ned, who is only now coming to.

“Ned knew when to stop runnin from his sins. You don’t.”

Indrid’s face goes terrifyingly blank. Then he turns, storming from the room. 

Duck reaches out, grabbing his hand, “Darlin, wait, we can fix this, all of it.” 

“Oh _now_ you speak.” He hisses, yanking his hand back, and disappears. 

Duck stares at the empty space in his hand. 

“I feel...extremely lost.” Stern speaks first, steps to Thacker, “Are you quite sure you’re alright? You’ve been gone for years, in god knows what circumstances, we ought to take you to Dr. Drake.”

“Drake’s still here? I’ll be damned, thought a good doctor like her woulda headed out to the big city. Nice gal.”

Mama takes a deep breath, palm squeezing the top of a chair so hard she must have splinters, “We have to deal with the wolf first. Everything else can wait.”

The door bursts open, and Duck perks up. He knew Indrid would come back.

“Mama, you better come upstairs. We’ve got...several problems.” Dani darts out the door and Mama groans out several expletives before following her. Stern and Barclay exchange a worried look before following suit, Thacker in tow and asking dozens of questions.

“Guess we better go to, huh?” Aubrey says to the ground.

Ned puts a hand on her shoulder. She doesn’t shake it off.

“A moment, my friend.”

Duck sits back to give them space. 

“Aubrey, there isn’t anything I can do to make up for what Boyd and I caused. I can say my apologies a hundred times over and it would not change the fact she is gone. I will still say them, if that is what you need from me, but I will not pretend that is all the balm required to ease the pain I’ve caused you.” 

Aubreys fingers close around the pendant.

“I ought to have been truthful. With both of you. I’m sorry.”

For a moment, the three of them sit in silence. 

“I don’t think I forgive you all the way. Not just yet.” Aubrey looks at Ned, places her hand atop his, “but I think I can, one day. Rght now, I want you to help us save our world. It’s the least you could do for my mom, or for me.”

Ned squeezes her hand, “I do believe I can agree to those terms, my friend.”

\-----------------------------------

The front of the lodge is utter pandemonium, hornets and lodge residents and townsfolk all shouting at each other and at Mama.

It’s Hollis who calms them this time, with a trio of sharp whistles.

“Look, Mama, I don’t like the idea either. But if the direwolf is only after one person, I don’t see how we can sit by and let it kill whoever is unlucky enough to be in its way until it finds them.”

Mama narrows her eyes, “how did you know that?”

“I, er, overheard your conversation and enlightened them. Seemed the civic-minded thing to do.”

“Goddammit Mosche!” Ned groans, earning him an affronted look from Boyd. 

“Excuse me for not wantin the damn thing to have another chance to eat either of us.”

Mama rolls her eyes, “Hollis, I agree with you that we gotta find who it’s after. But this ain’t the way to do it. I’ve seen things like this before, and if we ain’t careful we’ll all be at each others throats by nightfall.”

“I got some ideas as to who it might be.” Boyd says.

“Me too” Hollis nods.

“Likewise” adds Keith, their lieutenant. 

“Fine. Say ‘em on three. One, two, three.”

A chorus of voices, all shouting different names, rises to meet Mama's command. 

“See, this is what I mean. We ain't got no real idea, and the more suspicious and angry we get-”

A howl, furious and hungry, sounds in the distance.

Another howl answers it. Then another, and another, until all the sounds of the world are drowned by the calls of the direwolves. 

“-the more likely that’s gonna happen.” Mama sighs, defeated. 

“Don’t suppose you got a whole barrel of silver bullets.” Duck mutters to Stern, whose hand is already on his gun.

“No such luck. But I have a few ideas. Mama, will you permit me to help?” He asks, and Duck spies Barclay smiling proudly behind the agent. 

Mama nods, “At this point, we’re gonna need all the help we can get.”

\-------------------------------------

Aubrey and Dani are hand in hand, putting the final touches on several powerful wards. They can’t save the whole town, but they can keep the lodge protected enough that the sick, the young, and those who do not wish to, or cannot, fight will be safe.

“I have to go help Duck and the others. Fire doesn’t kill these things, but they really don’t like it.” She turns to Dani, takes her other hand and draws both to her chest,

“If I don’t come back, please take care of Dr. Harris Bonkers for me. And yourself.”

Dani strokes her cheek, smile a warm spark in the dying light of day.

“You better come back. Your promised me a spring wedding, remember?”

“Hah, yeah.” She meets Dani’s eyes, and there is so much love, so much promise in them, that something strong and determined settles in her heart, “No way in hell some bom-boms are gonna make me break that promise to you.”

Dani kisses her, urgent and hard, whispers, “come back to me” when they break apart.

“I will.” Aubrey hugs her close, “I always will.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------

“I must admit, this whole investigation has gone a bit off the rails.” Stern unholsters his gun, turns to Barclay as they lay in wait on the south end of town. 

“That’s Kepler for you, full of surprises.” Barclay toys anxiously with his bracelet. 

“Barclay, if things go wrong” Stern takes his hand, kisses it once, “I want you to know that I care for you, deeply. And I am so glad we met.”

“Me too.” Barclay leans forward to kiss him.

Sterns eyes widen.

“Look out!” 

They dive down just as a direwolf, smaller than the one they’ve faced before, launches itself at them. It whirls in the snow as they clamber to their feet. 

The it lunges at Stern, and Barclay makes a split-second decision.

The wolf is grabbed mid-air, a crack echoing through the twilight as it’s neck snaps. 

Stern looks at the creature on the ground.

“Well, now we know these ones, at least, can be killed in some ways.”

He looks back up at Barclay, who stands before him as Bigfoot, and gives him a pointed stare.

“And if we survive this, you have some serious explaining to do.”

\--------------------------------

Duck checks and rechecks his supplies in the safehouse as Thacker furiously flips through his old notes, hoping to find something, anything, that can help them.

“Thacker?”

“Yes?” The older man looks up with an accommodating smile.

“Do you have any idea why you stopped bein all…possessed or whatnot?”

Thacker waves him close, and Duck sits down across from him.

“It was scared. The quell, the thing that took me over, I think it's runnin from somethin. I felt this just, complete terror washing over me, and then it was gone and I was myself again. Don’t know what made it scared after six years of hangin around.”

“You said it was like a corrupted part of Sylvain, right? Maybe something happened back there that made it disappear.”

“Maybe.” Thacker returns to his notes and Ducks eyes drift to the wall where Indrids drawings are pinned. He sees Ned returning the pendant, the wolf, a huge dark storm swirling over Kepler. On the floor is the book Mama used to show them the images of how the town came to be. But his eyes keep returning to the storm.

“Thacker, what’d the Quell look like?”

“Like this huge, dark cloud.”

“Shit, I think I might know how to stop the wolf.” He bolts from the room, dashing upstairs.

When he swings open the door of Indrids room, the seer is nowhere to be found. A note is sitting on the bed. He opens it, and by the time he finishes it he’s running to fetch Aubrey and Ned. 

_Dearest Duck,_

_I know who the direwolf is after, and I have for awhile. It’s after me, for reasons that became clear this afternoon. I am going to do what must be done. I don't want anyone else hurt, least of all you._

_Do not come after me. I mean it. There are a sixteen futures as of my writing this where you do and I swear, I will be very cross if you choose those paths._

_I am sorry, my love. For all I hid from you, for not being the man you thought I was. These last months have been the happiest of my life, and I shall be forever grateful that it was me you chose to love._

_I love you, Duck. I do not know what to say besides that, and so I shall leave it there._

_Yours,_

_Indrid_

\------------------------

It’s dark as night and colder than the grave in the cabin. 

Indrid sits on the bed, looking out the window and waiting. There are still a few futures where Duck comes looking for him, but by choosing to hide in Ducks own home, he’s reduced them down. The man will likely assume Indrid went somewhere in the woods, or to his run-down shack. 

They won’t find him until it’s all over. 

He shuts his eyes.

When he opens them again, yellow eyes stare at him from a face of matted, dark fur. It’s lips draw back into a gruesome grin, 

On shaking legs, he stands and walks to the door. The wolf parallels him, is there when he opens the door into the frigid night air. 

“Please” he steps aside, sweeps his arm out, “won’t you come in?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: The end of the line
> 
> Note: I'm taking liberties with the exact nature of the Quell for pacing reasons.


	17. The Direwolf Collects His Due

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time runs out.

The snow comes down like gravedirt on the city of Kepler. 

In the streets, full of shouting and growling and chaos, Duck runs.

“Aubrey! Ned!” 

He ducks is a wolf, fur still smoking, flies over him. 

“Can this wait?” Aubrey spins a circle of fire around them, keeping another wolf at bay. 

“No! We need to find Indrid, _now_.”

“Why?” Ned yanks them both down behind an overturned wagon, Boyd loading a shotgun and handing it to him. 

“Because he thinks it’s after him but it ain’t, not really. But he’s gonna let the direwolf, the big fucker, take him anyway. I’ll explain on the way, but we gotta move, we gotta find him, we can stop all this if we do. I think he went that way, towards his house.”

“I hate to contradict you” Boyd stands for a moment, fires his pistol, and then drops back down, “but I saw him runnin that way.” He points towards the west, and it all falls into place for Duck.

“The cabin. God almighty, I hope we can make it in time.”

\----------------------------------------

The direwolf fills much of the front room of the house, breath heavy and loud. It’s sickly eyes I track Indrid as he moves.

“You’re earlier than I expected. I need a moment to get my affairs in order.” Indrid removes the jacket he’s wearing, folding it carefully and placing it at the other end of the room so it will stay clean.

“Ducks.” He indicates the piece of clothing in explanation. The wolf continues to stare.

“If you can, please don’t make a mess. It’s not my home.”

He kneels down, settling back on his heels, head bowed and hands folded in his lap. 

“I broke my oath. I abandoned a friend, a child of earth, in a moment of need. I have lied to my friends. I have a been a coward more times than I’ve been brave.” 

He looks up, meeting eyes that hold understanding, but no mercy. 

“You’ve seen the rest, even as I’ve spoken I felt you drawing it forth. Do what you must to leave the others in peace.”

He shuts his eyes, pictures a pair of mismatched ones and a crooked smile.

“Goodbye, my love.” He whispers. 

And then the claws connect with his stomach. 

\------------------------------

There is no doubt in the mind of a direwolf. No mercy, no hesitation. 

The one before it is a child of Sylvain. This it knows. A thousand sins, small and great, fill it’s nose. The creature before it reeks with them.

It is the smell of prey. Strange, then, that this prey does not run. 

It swipes all the same. The creature falls to its back, the wolf feels the skin beneath its claws give. It's prey makes a sad, soft cry of pain. But it doesn’t struggle. 

Strange prey indeed. 

New scents, new sins, reach it and it snaps its head over his shoulder. 

Three children of earth. It knows them, it has seen their sins before. 

One stands closer than the others, its weapon glinting in the night.

“Leave him alone! He’s not who you’re lookin for!”

Fear pours off the creature in waves, but it steps forward, and that blade is silver, painful silver and so the wolf growls.

“You ain’t lookin for him. You’re lookin for that.” 

The one with the silver sword points to the sky just as another creature raises a hand in the air. The hand shines bright, like flames, like fire, like the heart of home. And the sky is racing towards them, a mass of darkness, of anger and hurt.

It’s true prey. It cannot hide anymore. 

The sky is falling, the children of earth all yelling at once. The third, who it knows to be Ned, crooked thief, throws himself in front of the one holding the flame, protecting it as the darkness envelopes them all. 

It leaps into the fray, and tears the quell to pieces.

\------------------------------------

Duck’s eyes struggle to process what he sees. The Quell reaches them just as the direwolf leaps, and then the darkness is tearing apart, pieces flying in all directions. He reaches the others, Ned already shielding Aubrey, and tries to stay between them and the storm as the wolf howls and the quell screams. 

And then the quell is gone, the wolf holding a dark stone streaked with sickly red and yellow, between its teeth. 

It watches them wordlessly for a moment, then bounds into the woods. In the town below, the sounds change. There’s no more howling, only delighted cheers. 

But none of that matters as he runs to the door of his home. All that matters is the man laying unmoving on the ground. 

“Indrid, shit, shit _shit_ , no, please no.”

He drops to the ground, gathering the limp form against him.

A weak sound and Indrid barely opens his eyes.

“You never cease to surprise me.”

“You’re gonna be okay, you hear? I’ll patch you up like I always do.”

“The marks are rather deep, my love.”

Duck looks at Indrids chest, forces himself to remain calm.

Aubrey and Ned stumble into the cabin, the magicians hands already working as she kneels on Indrids other side.

“Aubrey, please be careful. You poured a lot of power into the activating the pendant, I do not wish you to hurt yourself trying to heal me. 

“Boyds wound was twice as bad as this.” Aubreys palms glow.

“He and Ned ran from the wolf. Giving oneself willing insures a less painful death, but it means the wolf drains the life from you rather than ripping it out. I'm already rather far gone”

Duck holds his breath. Three of clawmarks close, but two remain as Aubreys face contorts in pain. 

“Indrid, it’s not, I don’t think I can keep up the spell.” Tears are starting to form at the edges of her eyes.

“Is there a way I can help?” Ned looks at her, but she shakes her head. 

Duck presses his forehead against Indrids.

“Please, please don’t leave me.”

“I’m just glad we get a moment unsullied by the reveal of my lies before the end.” Indrid whispers.

“Don’t talk like that. I forgive you, it’ll be alright, I love-”

“What’d you just do?” Aubrey gasps.

“Nothin. Said I forgave Him. And that I love him.” The last word hiccups out dangerously close to a sob.

She points to the remaining marks in Indrids skin. They’re closing. 

“Holy shit.” 

“Keep forgiving him, and throw in a few more I love yous too!” Aubreys hands glow brighter, then her eyes light with an idea, “Ned, I, I forgive you. For not telling me sooner about the necklace. The other stuff is going to take some time, but I’m ready to forgive you for that one.”

The light increases.

“And I love both of you, my friends.” Ned rests a hand on Duck and Aubreys shoulders, “for giving this old, disreputable crook more chances than he deserves.”

Duck leans so close that only he and Indrid can hear, murmurs, “I love you, I know you ain’t perfect, that you ain’t a saint, but I love you, mistakes and all, and believe you can make things right where you fucked up, and I'll love through all of it.”

By the time he’s through speaking, the fiery light from the cabin is shining like the sun to the town below.

\---------------------------------------

Indrids amends start with Thacker, with genuine apologies uttered from his bed in the lodge, and a promise to do what he can to help Thacker rebuild his life as needed.

He is not the only one laying injured in bed that night. The direwolves were not known across two worlds as forces of destruction for nothing. 

He apologizes to Mama as well, for many things. Among them is the fact that he didn’t foresee the direwolves quarry was the quell, the corrupted and vile part of Sylvain that had escaped and lain hidden, for years, in Arlo Thacker. Mama pointed out that she was the one who brought him back with the wolf on his heels.

When he eventually finds himself too exhausted to speak, it’s another person altogether who sits by his side. 

Duck strokes his hair, hums what Indrid recognizes as an old earth lullaby, keeps him company until he drifts into dreamless sleep. When he wakes up in the morning, he will find the human asleep in the same chair, blanket drawn up around his sturdy, familiar frame. 

But for now, Indrid will sleep. And for the first time in weeks, the rest of Kepler joins him with relief, rather than fear, in their hearts. The feeling plods from house to house like an old watchdog, as the town dreams quietly beneath the snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Springtime.


	18. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The spring arrives, and Indrid decides to show off.

Indrid Cold is flying.

The April sun is warm on his wings as he spins and dives in the air. Below him, the forest is a symphony of green, the town of Kepler a friendly miniature of itself in the midst of the trees. 

Much closer by, the target of his display sits on a picnic blanket, face upturned and radiating delight. Indrid does a complex series of loops, savoring the wind on his face, and there’s a cheer from below him. 

Time for the big finish.

He tips forward into a freefall, and just as the ground roars a little too close he extends his wings, pulling up and skimming only a few feet above Ducks head. Then he flutters carefully down onto the ground, bowing low with his wings spread behind him. 

“Damn!” Duck is beaming at him as he walks back to the blanket, “That was amazin darlin, you were spectacular. And your feathers look so fuckin stunnin in the sunshine.”  
“Thank you, my love.” Indrid purrs, sitting down in front of him and bumping their foreheads together. Duck runs his hands through the feathers on his chest. 

“I’m serious, that’s the most impressive fuckin thing I ever seen. I didn’t know you could fly like that.” 

Duck is flushed, clearly meaning every word he says, and Indrids antennae twitch with interest as the spots on his wings change color. Duck notices and looks even more excited.

“Wait, wait, don’t tell me, it’s deep green so that means, uh” he traces the edge of one wing as he things, “green is confidence, right?”

“Yes, but not only that. The patterns I did were a mating flight, Duck.”

Duck’s eyes widen.

“And am I correct that you are, shall we say, impressed and receptive by what I did?”

A slow nod as Duck licks his lips.

“Then in this case, it means dominance. It means you are _mine_ ” He circles his wings around Duck, who responds by drawing his fingers along the inside of each. 

“I’m likin where this is headin.” He murmurs. 

Indrid runs one hand through his dark hair, another down his cheek, while the lower two settle on his hips. Draws his tongue slowly up Ducks neck, resisting the urge to tear his clothing off and have him right there. But there are multiple futures involving people stumbling upon them, and at least one that involves unwanted interruption by a squirrel. 

“Then scurry on home, little human. I’ll be with you shortly. And if you’re wearing even a scrap of clothing, I will rip it to shreds.”

Duck shudders, kissing Indrids neck once before the Sylph retracts his wings so the human can stand. As Duck turns for home, Indrid gathers up the remnants of their picnic, then sets about his final preparations. 

\--------------------------------------

Duck’s trying to figure out whether he should wait on the floor or the bed when the door swings open.

Indrid is carrying not only the picnic hamper and blanket, but a large, elaborate bouquet of flowers that he must have picked on the way home. 

Glowing eyes rake over Ducks body as Indrid purrs, “very good, sweet one.”

He sets his things on the table, gathering Duck into his arm, “Here is what will happen. I am going to finish tidying up and making the house look nice.” He gestures to the flowers, “as is traditional. Meanwhile, you will work yourself nice and open, ready to take whatever I choose to give you.”

“That also traditional?” Duck teases.

“Not really, but our dynamic is rather unique.” He smiles, licks Ducks cheek, and straightens up.

“Start with one finger. I will tell you when to add the next.” 

Duck hops onto the bed, grabs the lube and a condoms, and teases his entrance for a moment before slipping the finger in. Indrid pads into the kitchen, hamper in hand. When he re-enters the bedroom he says, “add the next.”

Duck does, moaning at the feeling. Indrid smirks, begins laying the flowers out in different places. Some he weaves together into garlands, others sit in vases, and a few are strewn about the floor.

“Add the third.” Indrid is humming, occasionally pausing his decorating to stretch his wings, giving Duck a perfect view of their beauty. The eye-spots remain circles of dark green, and at this point he’s as hard from imagining what Indrid intends to do as he is from fucking himself. 

“Now the fourth.” Indrid says mildly.

“Y-you sure you don’t wanna get to it now?” He’s already feeling so needy, and he’s never fucked himself with that many before.

“My love, you know how large my cock is in this form. Even with your durability, I prefer to take precautions to avoid you getting hurt.” Indrid is holding several shiny objects in his hand, and he moves the curiosity shelf and sets them out as Duck changes positions. 

He feels obscene like this, cheek to the blankets, up on his knees and spread wide by his own hand. It’s glorious.

The fourth finger is in and the stretch is perfect. Slowly, he drags his hand back and forth. 

“Do fuck yourself like you mean it, sweet one.”

He growls, then feels a tug in his hair. 

“Now now, I know our positions are often reversed, but that’s no reason to forget your manners.”

“‘M sorryAH!” His hand is gruffly yanked out, leaving him feeling empty as he shakes the condom from his fingers and tries to get his balance on the bed. 

“Well, if you’re not going to do it properly…” 

The head of Indrids cock, ridged and slick with pre-come, presses in and he hisses, griping the sheets.

Indrid teases in another inch, then pulls out. The next time, he thrusts so deep Duck lets out an undignified noise.

“Fuck, i-is that the whole fuckin thing?”

“No.” Indrid says, resting his upper hands on Ducks shoulders and his lower ones on his hips as he leans over him. For a moment he simply purrs soothingly, nuzzling along Ducks neck and the back of his head. Then, with an obvious grin in his voice he says, “this is.”

Duck cries out, tears pricking his eyes from the sensation of so much pleasure and pressure, and just the barest hint of delicious pain, hitting him at once. 

“There, there” Indrid pats his hair with one hand, coos “I know it’s a lot, but you’re taking it so well. And you’re going to keep taking it, because you want to be mine, all mine, don’t you little human.”

“Yes, yes _yes_.” The words are nearly punched from him by Indrids movements and the Sylph chuckles, licks along his neck and the shell of his ear. 

“My Duck” he whispers, then chirps when Duck writhes at a particularly hard thrust. Then he sits back up and Duck holds tight to the bed as the sound of his own cries and moans and Indrids purrs and chirrs, fill the room. Gradually, his body adjusts to the stretch, though it still feels stranger and more intense than anything he;s ever experienced. 

“I’m going to change our position now.” Indrid stops moving and pulls out, shifting to sit on the edge of the bed with his feet on the floor, “Straddle my lap, facing the window” (which mercifully has its curtains drawn).

Duck obeys on already shaky limbs.

“Darlin, I wanna keep goin something fierce, but I ain’t sure my legs can hold out for this.”

“They can’t, I looked ahead. But don’t worry, that will not be an issue.” He guides Duck about a third of the way down his cock,a clawed lower hand on each hip, the human groaning in pleasure. 

Then, as if he weighs nothing, Indrid lifts nearly all the way back off. Without preamble, he starts yanking him up and down with ease.

“AhshitahSHIT, Indrid, oh god, when did you get so fuckin strongohfuck” His head lolls back and Indrid traces his tongue along it.

“Are you forgetting about the time I literally carried you through the air?”

“Good, fuck, good point.”

Indrid slows, but doesn’t stop, as he says, “there’s something else I’d like to do, but if it’s not pleasant I want you to tell me immediately.”

“You have my word.”

The upper set of hands suddenly encircle Ducks neck and he tenses. But they don’t squeeze, they barely even press. It’s the faintest suggestion of a hold, one that doesn’t affect his breathing. But the possibility, the reminder of how powerful Indrid is in this form, makes him moan and dip his head down to kiss the nearest thumb. 

“Yes?” Indrid asks softly

“Fuck yes.” 

“Oh good. Now, I am going to fuck you like you’re a little toy meant for nothing but my pleasure until I’m satisfied.”

After that, all Duck can do is hold on and take it as Indrid pumps him up and down on his cock, pushing to the hilt every time and making Duck keen. The hands stay circling his neck, but it’s the ones on his hips that do all the work so as not to hurt his throat or his breathing. 

His sweet spot is not so much being touched as it is being battered at this point, the sheer size and shape of Indrid meaning it’s hit with each thrust. It doesn’t take long before heat coils in his belly and he comes with a surprised yelp, white streaking the floor.

“What a mess, and after I put together such a nice, ah goodness, nest for us. I ought to make you clean it up with your tongue, filthy little thing.”

Duck moans with delightful shame at those words, letting himself go limp while Indrid continues fucking him like a doll, like he’s nothing, like he’s-

“My love, oh Duck, oh you feel so good, so perfect and tight, taking my cock like you were made for me and me alone.”

He whimpers and Indrid somehow pulls him closer against his down.

“I cannot wait to fill you, it’s, nnnh, ecstasy being inside, oh my love, my love yesss.” He shoves Duck all the way down and holds him there even as he wriggles at the strange sensation of Indrid coming in thick spurts inside him. The sylphs wings extend and he trills. Then they collapse weakly down, half covering Duck. Indrid continues holding him tight, small chirps muffled against Ducks shoulders as his hips twitch a few more times. Then the seer relaxes. Duck turns to look at him, fluffs his cheek. 

“You alright there, darlin?”

“Perfect.”

Duck smiles teasingly, “got a little flowery there at the end.”

“What can I say, you bring it out in me.” Indrid nuzzles him once again and then pulls out gingerly. 

“Want you glasses?”

“Please. No, wait I can get-” he says at the same time Duck answers

“I got ‘em-owow, okay, you can get ‘em.”

Indrid snickers, plucks his spectacles from the table and puts them on.

“Woe betide you if I can’t dance at Aubrey and Dani’s weddin tomorrow. Was plannin on takin you for a spin on the dance floor, showin you off.”

“The futures show you and I sharing several lovely dances, so not to worry.” He kisses Duck softly as he rests his hand on the bed post, then winces and pulls his hand back.

“Blasted splinters.”

“Here.” Duck holds out his hand and Indrid sets his in it, palm up. Duck pinches the sliver between his nails and pulls it free. 

“Look at you patching me up. Just like old times.”

Duck kisses the sore spot, then each knuckle in turn, “I’ll always patch you up darlin, long as I live.”

“Funny you should say that.” Indrid reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small gold band. 

\-----------------------------------------

The year is 1881.

The spring sun is setting on the town of Kepler, gold and pink dancing across the sky. The citizens are settling in for a peaceful evening, one of many they now experience since the balance of things has been restored. 

And in cabin on a hill above the town, at the edge of the woods, Duck Newtons face is brighter than any sun as Indrid Cold slips a ring onto his finger, eyes shining like a thousand stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end!
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone for reading!
> 
> I'm opening requests again. So if you have some Sternclay or Indruck content you want to see, come find me as ThisWasInevtiable on Tumblr and tell me all about it


End file.
